


For You, I Give My Soul to Keep

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: OT5, Oblivious Louis, Witch Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: Louis is presented with a challenge that changes his life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was "phantom" and while this is way different than what I had originally planned, I hope you like it all the same! 
> 
> As with everything I do, I owe my gratitude to Chels for being my beta, muse, and all around pain in the ass.

As the clock ticks steadily towards 9 a.m., the large wooden door leading into the classroom swings open with a groan. Through it, students in various states of fatigue and disquietude filter into the room. Most chose to trudge up the theater steps, finding safety in distance. While others sit close to the front, likely more willing to interact with the professor than their peers. The class is reserved for second-year students, so it's their third time starting in a new class, meeting a new professor. But, the energy never seems to change; excitement and nerves all bundled up together.

Etched into the slate stone wall, the blackened and scorched expanse of the hearth sits silently empty. Outside,  the leaves on the trees show signs of shifting from bright greens to yellows and reds, but the air is still thick with summer heat. The classroom is drenched in it now, heat and humidity that in no time at all will have everyone sweating and a bit irritable.

Just in front of the hearth, sits a large mahogany desk. Ancient, hand carved, and gleaming with polish, it compliments the breathtaking man who leans against the front of it with his hands clasped in his lap.

"A mixture of inflated ego and an unbalanced foundation of power, is undoubtedly the most dangerous foe any witch or wizard will ever come across," Zayn declares with no preamble at all. Dragging his honey colored eyes over his pupils, he assesses them silently. When he seems satisfied he's got their attention, he continues. "The history of magic is blotted with great wizards who have met an untimely end, at the hands of a less talented, but more well-rounded, opponent."

A movement in the top row, an apple being lazily tossed up in the air repeatedly, draws his eyes from the students for a second.  The culprit is leaning back in his chair and cloaked in shadow, only his feet visible because of the way they sit propped up on the desk. A ghost of a smile danced across his face before he collects himself and continues.

“The elements. Name them, now.” Zayn barks out.  A mousy young woman in the front row nearly slips out of her seat in surprise at the change in his tone. The apple lands on the desk with a clunk, and with a creak of the chair, Louis comes into view standing up and ambling down the steps of the amphitheater.

In the second to top row, a redheaded boy shoots up his hand.  Zayn nods in acknowledgment and crosses his arms across his chest. “Fire,” The boy responds quietly, but confidently.

Louis stops at his row and turns his head towards the torches mounted on the walls. The small flames inside them burst up towards the ceiling in a stunning display.  Louis smiles smugly and continues his journey down the steps. He stops two rows down when a blonde girl raises her hand eagerly.

Zayn nods. "Water," She proclaims loudly. A little more loudly than she had meant to if the flush of her cheeks means anything.

The boy seated to her left gasps as the water in his glass swirls slowly then picks up speed until it resembles a cyclone. With an unnecessary, but frankly fun, flourish of his hand at his wrist, Louis instructs the water to jump out of the glass and then slide smoothly back in again, where it sits perfectly still as though nothing had happened.

Near the front, a raven-haired boy thrusts his hand into the air. "Earth," he proclaims haughtily. Louis rolls his eyes at his tone while he saunters past his row.  The boy emits a high pitched squeal when the ground beneath his chair starts shaking violently.

Louis makes it to the bottom of the stairs, just as Zayn slides his eyes to the mousey haired girl who had been startled, he holds her gaze silently. Taking a breath to steady herself, the poor thing, she blinks twice before speaking. “Air,” she whispers.

Louis smiles at her warmly, eyes twinkling, before turning to saunter towards Zayn’s desk. Around her, a gentle breeze blows, billowing through her hair prettily.

Louis plops down in the chair and tips it back, dropping his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankles. Propping his elbow on the arm of the chair, he holds out his hand expectantly and a second later, the apple flies from the top row straight into his hand. He pauses to wink before taking a loud, crunching bite.

Zayn addresses the room. “Very good,” Slowly his honey colored eyes sweep over the pupils. “But, who can tell me which element our lovely visitor has yet to demonstrate for us today?”

When the room remains silent, Zayn cocks a brow and pushes up from the desk. “No, no one?”

Walking along the front row of students, he searches their faces. Some shift nervously, but none raise their hands. At the end of the row, Zayn stops and turns to face his desk. Louis stared back at him blandly, taking another bite of the apple and using his sleeve to wipe at the juice that trickles down his chin.

"The fifth, and arguably most important element of magic, is Spirit," Zayn says, voice seeming to boom in the absence of any other sound in the room. "To control magic through this element means to affect or gain entry into, another's mind. In other words, it is the psychic element."

Louis takes another loud bite of the apple.

Suddenly, the room erupts in fear and panicked murmuring. The students remain in their seats, some frozen completely still, others gripping the edges of their desks with white knuckles. Louis doesn’t bother looking around the room to see what has them terrified, he’s been at the receiving end of this charm at least a thousand times since Zayn learned it back in secondary school.

"I have taken your sight," Zayn explains coolly. "Here you are, sitting ducks. Should my intention be to attack you, how would you defend yourself? Certainly, you would harm others while blindly whipping your magic about. And certainly, from my position, I could overpower you without so much as breaking a sweat."

The students release a collective sigh of relief as Zayn lifts the charm. Louis snickers behind his apple at the furious look on the face of the haughty boy from earlier. An earthquake and going blind all in one day? Tough break, kid.

"Over this term, your task is to research psychic charms, specifically their role in self-defense, and give a presentation that displays your mastery and knowledge of two such charms." Titters of conversation and whispers break out around the room and Zayn waits silently for them to abate before continuing. "After the presentations, our visitor here and I will both produce one psychic charm each. As a group, you will decide which of our charms is more useful."

Louis raises his eyebrows at the news. Zayn turns to him at the desk with a mischievous smile. "The prize, of course, is nothing more than good old-fashioned bragging rights."

Tossing the apple into the bin next to the desk with a clatter, Louis lets a slow smile drag across his face. “You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Louis is seconds away from beating his own record when the smell of baking chocolate invades his senses. Dropping the controller onto the couch, he makes his way into the kitchen stealthily. Harry had been banging around in there earlier, presumably putting together whatever is producing the mouthwatering scent that is wafting from the oven.

Louis peeks around the corner, checking that the coast is clear before picking up a dishtowel and grabbing the handle of the oven door.

“If you open that door and let the heat out,” Harry’s voice calls warningly from down the hall. “I won’t let you have even one.”

Frustrated, Louis throws the towel on the counter and stomps down the hall to Harry's office.  Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, he watches Harry type away on his laptop.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch?” Louis asks with narrowed eyes.

Harry smirks and leans back in his computer chair. “Yup, I just know what a cookie thief sounds like sneaking around.”

Louis hums thoughtfully and pushes off from the door frame. Walking towards Harry, he assesses him with narrowed eyes. "Hmmm, not even a smidge? Like a great-grandmother who read palms?"

Harry’s barks out a loud laugh that warms Louis from the inside out. “Nope, not even a lucky rabbit’s foot in my family tree.”

He watches Louis with amused eyes and he circles him in the chair. Squeezing himself between the desk and Harry, Louis snaps the laptop closed and scoots up on top of the desk. Harry rolls the chair forward and makes room for himself between Louis’s thighs, dropping his head down in his lap.  He practically purrs when Louis starts threading his fingers through his hair.

“What good is it, sharing a flat with your best mate, if he doesn’t even share the treats he makes?” Louis asks.

Harry snorts humorously. "They'll be ready in about 45 minutes, double chocolate chip," Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis's back and nudging Louis's shirt up so he can rub circles on the soft skin he finds there. It's an awkward position, and his shoulders are sure to start hurting any minute now, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Pleased with the attention, Louis hums contentedly. “Won’t be here, meeting Liam at the shop so we can find a good psychic charm.”

"I'm done writing for the day," Harry responds, words muffled by the way he's speaking into Louis's soft joggers. "I'll bring you down some when they've had a chance to cool a bit." His shoulders start to twinge uncomfortably, so he grips Louis's hips and pulls him down towards his lap. Louis goes willingly, curling up with his knees over the arm and his head tipped against Harry's chest. Harry's arms encircle him as soon as he's settled.

“Yeah?” Louis asks hopefully.

Harry smiles into Louis’s hair and gives him a squeeze. “Yeah.”

 

With a thump and a cloud of dust, Louis drops a stack of leather-bound books down onto the table in front of Liam. Wiping his hands on his pants, he ignores the way he hacks and sputters.

“Jesus, have you ever tried not being a dick?” Liam asks, waving his hand in front of his face in an effort to clear the dust.

"Once yeah, in primary school. Too much work, that." Louis responds, unperturbed by Liam's death stare. Pulling out one of the old wooden chairs, he plops himself down across the table with a huff and starts dispersing the books between them.

Opening up a large red book with worn and disintegrating binding, he flips through and finds a page in an adventitious kind of way.  A spell to magic away mildew stains in the bathtub.

Next.

“Here’s one to boil water,” Liam says, blinking innocently. “Took you a while to master that magic free though, so the charm might be a little out of your league.”

Very few people know it, but Liam is actually a fucking wanker. Actually, a pretty large number of people know. An ever-growing number, as Louis tells everyone he meets.

“Thank you for the laugh, Liam,” Louis grumbles, flipping the pages of the book with a snap. “Can always count on you.”

Oh. Here’s something.

“Look at this,” Louis orders without actually bothering to move the book so Liam can see it from his seat.

Craning his neck he reads the top of the page and whips his head towards Louis. “Phantom touches?” He asks incredulously.

Louis smacks his hand for asking questions without reading first and nudges his chin towards the page. He waits impatiently as Liam makes it down the page, drumming his fingers on the old table top.

"This is pretty high-grade stuff, Lou." He's commenting on the intensity of the magic, not saying Louis is incapable. But, he's got a point.

“Yeah, but it’s something to work towards right? If I’ve got till December to master it, it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge,” he says with a shrug.

Plus, imagine the pranks he could pull.

Liam looks contemplative for a second, but nods anyway, eyes still scanning the page.  “Yeah, it says that it has to be with someone who is receptive to your touch in general.” Louis cocks a brow and waits for him to continue. After a second, Liam looks up at him and sighs.  “So, I guess that means us boys are gonna be your lab rats until you get this perfected.”

So smart that Liam.

“Well, that settles it.” Louis proclaims happily. “I’ve found my psychic charm!” His excitement ebbs slightly when Liam doesn’t look up from the book. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he’s got his brow furrowed as he reads over the charm again. Louis watches him for a few moments.

Just a bit too late, Liam realizes that Louis is being suspiciously quiet. He whips his head around.

"Don't do whatever you're about to do - " The chair vanishes underneath Liam and he lets out a very unmanly shriek as he smacks onto the floor.

Louis is still laughing at him as Harry comes in the front door, Tupperware in hand. Harry follows the sound and smiles warmly at Louis when he spots him at the table. Rounding it, he stops at Liam, who is laying spread eagle and glaring at the ceiling.

“What are you doing mate?” Harry asks with a cock of his head.

Liam doesn’t respond, instead closing his eyes and taking a calming deep breath. Louis waves a hand at him. “Don’t worry about him, Haz. Being dramatic is all. Let’s see those cookies.”

Harry shrugs and Liam’s eyes pop wide as Harry climbs over him with no further thought.

"I need a charm for new friends," Liam grumbled.

They both ignore him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Niall, you’d call yourself receptive to my touch, yeah?” Louis asks, toeing off his shoes at the front door and walking into the kitchen. It’s chilly enough outside that the tile floor is cold against his feet; he’ll have to yell at Harry about not convincing him to wear socks this morning.

The island is covered in little white takeaway boxes and a couple six packs of beer.  Oh good, Niall’s order Thai. Or Harry did on his way home from work and Niall intercepted it on his way in.

Either way, Thai.

Niall chews his noodles for a second and nods flippantly. “Yeah, you’re pretty fit.”

Louis blinks.

“I’m flattered,” Louis answers sarcastically. “But, I meant you don’t mind a cuddle with me here and there.”

Niall takes another huge bite of noodles and talks around it. “Obviously.” Which, firstly, is rude for several reasons and secondly, is true. They are probably the most handsy group of friends Planet Earth has ever seen.

“Right well, I’ve found a new charm-”

“Oh mother of cunts, here we fucking go,” Niall cuts him off, shaking his head and taking a large gulp of beer.

"Alright you diva, just fucking relax." Louis rolls his eyes and snatches the beer from Niall, who just grabs another from the counter.

“The last one turned my hair pink,” Niall recalls darkly, running his hand through his now perfectly back to normal brunette hair.

Jesus, diva is right. Rummaging through the boxes, he finds one that looks promising.  “I fixed it, didn’t I? No harm, no foul.”

Niall shoots him an incredulous look. “Uh. No, you laughed at me and took a picture to show Harry. Zayn changed it back.”

Louis sighs and opens up the top of the box, holding his hand out in silent request of a spoon. Niall hands him one without a second's hesitation. Sharing about 600 takeaway meals exactly like this one tends to create a kind of rhythm.

Louis takes a bite and chews, waiting to swallow before speaking because he’s not a bloody animal raised in a barn. “Yes, but I told Zayn to change it back, so it still counts.”

“Whatever.  What’s the new one then?”

Louis hops up on the island and crosses his ankles, balancing the container precariously on his knee. "So, it's a phantom touches charm," he begins. "If I do it right, it should feel like I'm touching you when I'm not."

Niall takes another pull of his beer and hums thoughtfully.

“Well, doesn't sound as dangerous as the warming spell,” Niall acquiesces with a tilt of his head.

Honestly. You set a couch cushion on fire one time and you never hear the end of it.

“It’s not dangerous at all, Ni,” Louis responds, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. At least until Niall gives in.  “It just takes a lot of concentration and energy is all.”

“Alright,” Niall says with a shrug.

“Alright?” Louis questions, voice hopeful.

“Yeah, have at it, Harry Potter,” Niall quips, leaning back on his elbows and smirking. Louis has half a mind to try that warming spell again, right on the seat of Niall’s pants. But his obsession with mastering the new charm wins out.  So, he moves the container to the island and brushes off his pants absentmindedly. Okay, here goes.

For five long minutes, the boys stare at each other. Niall's face passive and relaxed while he sips his beer and waits patiently. Louis's expression, all furrowed brow, and teeth worried lip, wrought with concentration.

“Can you feel anything at all?” Louis grits through his teeth.

“Nope,” Niall chirps happily, letting the ‘p’ pop.

Louis focuses harder. Ignoring the little drops of sweat that start rolling down his neck, he visualizes placing his hand on Niall’s chest.

After another minute, Niall’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Oh!” He gasps, pushing on his sternum. “I think I feel -” A loud burp cuts off the rest of his sentence. “Whoops, sorry mate. Think it was gas.”

Louis tackles him.

When Harry comes home ten minutes later, he finds them tangled around each other, mess of sweaty limbs and heaving chests. He makes to move around them, scouting out the takeaway containers and pauses to lean down and give each of them a smacking kiss.

“Harry, be a mate, yeah?” Niall asks breathlessly. “Awfully thirsty down here.”

Harry obliges, handing Niall a beer from the counter. With his cheek pressed to the cool tile floor, Louis watches Niall try to drink if from his position, mostly failing and spilling it all over his shirt. Which might actually be Louis’s shirt he's thinking, now that he's looking at it properly.

“Heeeyyyyy,” Harry turns from the counter with a pout. “Who ate all the spicy noodles?!”

Harry narrows his eyes at the resounding silence. Reaching down he grabs the beer from Niall and places it carefully on the island, then launches himself onto them with a war cry.

In the ensuing struggle, Niall’s (Louis’s) shirt get ripped nearly in half, Harry gets an elbow to the eye, and Louis smacks his head so hard against the cabinet his vision blurs for a second. But, Harry feels so badly that he agrees to go out and get him mint chocolate chip ice cream to make his head better. So, all's well that ends well really.

 

* * *

 

There are many areas in which Harry does exceedingly well.  Harry is great at golf. He's a top-notch singer. Just recently picked up playing guitar, and Niall says he's never seen someone learn so quickly.  No one compares to him in the kitchen. He gives some of the best hugs on the planet.  He's good at many things, but one of those things is not video games.  Louis is pretty sure it's not a hand-eye coordination problem, it's more likely a ratio of huge yeti paws to controller problem. Whatever the reason, Harry has always been at the bottom of the scoreboard. Which is why Louis is about to pull his own hair out, because for some reason today, Harry has decided to bring his A game.

Jaw clenched tight in determination, Louis stares at the cars racing around on the tv screen, willing his to get ahead. He's not a sore loser really, just not great at not being the winner, so he's really fighting the urge to smack the control out of Harry's hand. Luckily he can't spare the attention, or the extra hand, needing both to get the car through the track. But Harry is gaining and it's really starting to piss him off. Just as Harry's car passes him, Louis thinks again about smacking Harry's stupid yeti paw.

Harry yelps.

 "Lou! Don't fucking hit me," He whines. Both boys keep their eyes stuck to the screen. Because Louis might be competitive but Harry is just as bad when it comes down to it.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I didn’t hit you, I’m holding the controller. Stop trying to distract me.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but his car veers off course and crashes, bursting into flames. Louis jumps to his feet on the couch, punching his hands in the air in victory, as his name flashes on the screen.

Harry crosses his hands over his chest and pouts. “You cheated,” He grumbles.

Louis drops down on the couch unceremoniously, sending his controller clattering to the floor. He smacks at Harry’s hands until he uncrosses them and grabs Louis’s wrists instead, holding them loosely.

“I didn’t cheat Harold,” He says patronizingly with a flick of his fringe. “I was holding the controller, I didn’t do anything to you.”

Harry’s pout deepens. “You smacked me, I felt it.” He raises their hand between them, twisting them around oddly to show Louis. “I felt you smack me on my hand and I got distracted.”

Louis looks down at Harry’s hand for a second with a furrowed brow. Well, he had thought about smacking Harry. But, it’s been years since his emotions produced magic on their own. It happens sure, to kids before they learn control. Not to grown men, not to Louis. But. Maybe.

“Well,” Louis starts tentatively.

When he doesn't continue, Harry nudges his knee. "Well, what?" He asks.

“Well, remember that charm I told you Liam and I were looking for the other day?” Louis asks slowly. “It’s a phantom touch charm, supposed to be able to make people feel my touch without me actually touching them. But I haven’t had any luck with it so far.”

Harry shrugs and lays back on the couch, dragging Louis with him by his wrists so he’s draped across his chest.

“Think it worked today,” He responds distractedly, playing with a bit of thread that hangs from the arm of Louis’s t-shirt.

Louis hums in agreement. Cocking his head to the side, he wonders if it was a one-off. No harm in trying again.

He focuses on Harry's face, the dimple that's popping deeply on his cheek, and in his mind's eye, he sees himself poking it like he's done a million times before. And just like all those times, Harry giggles and tilts his face away. Only this time, Louis hadn't actually touched him. Harry's realization of this has his eyes going wide like saucers.

“That’s fucking cool, Lou,” Harry says in awe.

In excitement, Louis scrambles up into a sitting position, hands braced on Harry’s stomach.

“It’s so easy with you!” He exclaims in disbelief. “ I've tried for days with Niall, nearly strained something, I swear.”

Sitting across from each other, wearing matching grins, they probably look like complete idiots, but Louis is too happy to care.

“Okay, I want to try again.” He says, scooting forward a little on the cushion.

“Go on then.”

A second later, Harry cackles and writhes around, trying to get away from the tickling sensation that’s only happening in their minds. When he’s breathless and his eyes are brimming with tears, Louis shows him mercy.

“Okay,” Harry says, narrowing his eyes in determination. “I want to try.”

Louis snorts. But before he can point out that Harry doesn’t have lick of magic in his whole body, Harry attacks, pushing him back into the couch cushion and pressing kisses all over his face.

On his forehead.

“Can you feel that?” He quips.

On his cheeks.

“How about that?”

On his chin.

“Can you feel this?

On the tip of his nose.

“How about that one.”

Louis cackles after each smacking kiss, trying and mostly failing to shove Harry onto the floor. But, Harry's a bloody giant nowadays so it's really no surprise when Louis ends up with his hands pinned above his head, breathless and smiling wildly. Harry draws back a couple inches and smiles back sweetly, trying to blow the fringe out of his eyes.

“You are a witch, I knew it!” Louis accuses breathlessly. “I felt every one of those.”

Harry smile drops a little, turns into something closer to a thoughtful smirk. Blinking slowly, he shifts his eyes to Louis's mouth and back upward again. Louis knows what he's going to do immediately, and he's got time to stop it, time Harry is probably intentionally giving him. But he just. Doesn't.

Every bit of the entire universe that is not contained in the space between them, falls away. He's kissed Harry before, tons of times. Just yesterday after he'd gotten him a banana muffin, actually. But as he stares at Harry, hovering over him, just a breath away from his lips, he knows this is different.  He can feel it in the way his stomach clenches and his spine melt into the couch, just at the thought of Harry's mouth on his. It's really different, and different is a little scary isn't it? Just as his body tenses with a twinge of fear, Harry is pulling away.

“You want pizza or Chinese?” He questions.

What.

"What?" Louis answers incredulously.  

“For dinner,” Harry clarifies, leaning back and standing. “We had pizza last night yeah? Chinese then. I’ll go get the menu.” And just like that, Harry waltzes into the kitchen like nothing ever happened and all Louis can do is stare at the ceiling and wonder if he’s in some kind of dream.

 

* * *

 

The summer before Year Seven, Louis convinced Zayn to turn Old Lady Park’s cat into a pink lawn flamingo.  They had only left it that way for a day, and Louis really did believe the makeover actually improved the condition of the animal, but both sets of their parents had been less than pleased.

Oldie P, as the boys called her when no one was around to box their ears for it, lived three houses down and was generally the meanest human either boy had ever encountered.  Under her ever-present pink rollers, she had a built-in radar system that tracked any fun being had within 100 kilometers of her home.  One laugh just a smidge too loud, and her dingy bunny slippers would hit the pavement and shuffle off a mile a minute in search of the culprit, her equally nasty tabby cat streaking between her ankles.

She was particularly in opposition to the type of activities that young boys often get up to, the kind that left them smudged with grass stains and out of breath from belly laughs. So, when one bright and sunny morning, from her kitchen window she caught the boys learning to skateboard, she flew into a tizzy. Bounding out of the house broom in hand, screeching about peace and quiet, she startled the boys half to death. Louis had landed flat on his rear end, no harm is done really but to his ego.  But Zayn was just in the middle of a complicated trick and tumbled spectacularly, scraping nearly his whole arm and leaving it a bloody mess.

Louis's mum had cleaned him up and given both boys ice cream for their trouble, but it had done nothing to cool Louis's temper. Later that night, the boys had slipped out and hidden in the bushes, waiting for Oldie P to let her cat out for its evening stroll. Because, as Louis had explained to Zayn at length, justice must be served in all circumstances and Zayn had been wronged, plain and simple.

So, the summer before year seven, holding tightly to Louis' hand and shaking just a bit with nerves and excitement, Zayn performed his first major bit of spell work and shortly thereafter got into his first major bit of trouble alongside his best friend.  From that point on, their friendship was littered with mischief and pranks, the only kind of friendship worth having in Louis's humble opinion.

They’ve come a long way scraped knees and pink flamingos. Zayn’s a “respectable” professor and Louis writes gritty love songs for famous artists, but most evenings they can still be found sitting quietly on the roof of the magic shop, passing a joint between them and pranking the random passerby with minor magic.

"Okay, balding guy sitting with his wife," Louis says around an exhale, cloaking them in thick smelling weed smoke. "How about a picture in his tea?"

Zayn pulls his legs up from over the edge of the building and rests his chin on his knees. Down on the street, sitting outside the coffee shop, the man in question is deep in conversation, using his hands to gesture wildly. He takes a glance down into his tea before taking a sip and nearly upends it in a startled movement. Louis bites back a loud laugh, instead snorting rudely, as the man demands his wife look into the cup. Zayn almost loses it when the wife sees nothing out of the ordinary and checks the man’s forehead for fever.

"Your turn Bro," Zayn says. He snags the joint from Louis and nudges his chin down towards the street while he inhales. "Old Lady with the dog."

Louis takes a second to search the street before spotting her. Wrapped up in a long trench coat and walking a fancily groomed poodle, she stops to sit at one of the tables in front of the bakery. The setting sun makes it a bit more difficult to see exactly what she’s doing, but he’s pretty sure he can see her feeding the dog biscuits from her oversized bag.

Concentrating for a second, with a mischievous smiling playing across his face, Louis focuses on the dog. When the woman shrieks loudly enough for the surrounding tables to spin around and stare at her, Zayn rewards him with a slap on the back. As the woman babbles to the people around her about how she swears that just a second ago her dog had turned purple, (“Purple! I swear on my own life, purple I tell you!”) Louis grabs the joint back and shuffles a little closer to the edge.

Zayn's hand grabs at the back of his shirt tightly, pulling him backward. Louis looks over at him questioningly.

Zayn shrugs and let's go. "Thought you were going to fall off."

Louis chuckles quietly with a shake of his head. “You worry too much, Z.”

He doesn’t get a response. It’s always a 50/50 shot in conversations with Zayn anyway.

From next to him, he hears a rustle and a small huff of breath that signifies that the other lad has laid back and is staring up at the stars. Niall's always been obsessed with space, dreams of being an astronaut, but Zayn's got a bit of stargazer in him, too.

Louis lays down next to him, tossing his legs over Zayn's middle, who hauls them further across and rests his arm on them.

“Liam helped me find a charm,” Louis says, staring up at the sky. “Been practicing it with Niall for a couple weeks now.”

"Yeah, helpful that Liam," Zayn responds slowly, weed doing its job to mellow him out. Louis doesn't have to turn to know that Zayn's sporting a fond smile. Disgusting.

“It’s a phantom touch charm, seems to work fine for Haz.” Dropping his head to the side, Louis studies Zayn’s face. “Can’t get Niall to feel a bloody thing though.”

Zayn keeps his eyes his eyes on the stars and hums in acknowledgment but says nothing else.

“I probably need to practice more, it’s likely that Niall’s skull is just too dense or summat,” Louis says. “Problem is I need a subject who’s ‘receptive to my touch”’”. His use of air quotes is probably wasted on Zayn as he still isn’t bothering to look at him.

“Well I can’t help you,” he answers. “I don’t even like you.”

Louis laughs and wiggles his legs. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Zayn smiles with a scrunch of his nose and rubs a hand over Louis’s leg, wordlessly apologizing for a joke that hadn't even come close to smarting.

“Go ahead then, give it a shot.” He turns to look at him now, sending him a cheeky wink. “I always knew you wanted to get your filthy paws on this mind of mine.”

Louis snorts at what Zayn considers humor, and pushes himself up on his elbows. It seems likely that it’s easier to get the charm to work if he tries recreating a touch that he routinely does. So, biting at the corner of his lip, Louis concentrates on how it feels to swing his arm over the back of Zayn’s shoulders.

Twenty minutes later, Louis is so frustrated he could cry and Zayn seems to be sleeping, if not nearly there. Just before Louis decides to give up and perhaps hurl himself off the side of the building in shame, a familiar voice calls from the street.

“Oi! Any chance you miscreants are ready to close up shop for the evening?” Harry calls with a smile in his voice. “I’m thinking it’s time for me to collect the pretty one and bring him home for tea.”

Louis scrambles up and swings his legs over the edge, looking down at Harry with a smile. Zayn drags himself over too, waving lazily.

“ ‘Fraid you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific mate,” Louis answers, swinging his legs and letting his feet tap against the building.

Harry cocks his head and taps his finger against his lip, pretending to mull it over.

“Having a deep thought are you?” Zayn quips sarcastically.

Harry raises his finger in the air and lifts an eyebrow. “How about this, I’ve come for whichever pretty boy will be excited about the tray of marmite chicken I’ve got warming in the oven.”

Zayn makes a disgusted face and pretends to gag. “That’s you, bro.”

Louis is too busy scrambling up and racing towards the door to throw him a scathing look. Marmite chicken is delicious, Zayn is just uncultured is all.

When he gets out to the street, Louis doesn't slow down before plowing into Harry. He catches him, he always catches him somehow. Except for that time after the pub, but they don't talk about that because the memory still makes Louis's jaw ache a little.

Somehow, Louis convinces Harry to give him a piggy back all the way home. Which, really it wasn’t even that difficult. And by the time they barrel into the flat, sweaty and laughing, he’s forgotten all about his failed charm and his frustrations. Just like that.

 

* * *

 

The magic shop sits six blocks from Harry and Louis’s flat, four from the University, one from Zayn’s, and three from Liam’s. A small brick building, nestled between a coffee shop and bakery, it used to be a hardware store before Liam’s dad retired and handed it down to him.  Where there once were rows of hammers and saws, stand mismatched shelves stuffed full of books of charms and potions. The floor, once cold, efficient concrete, is covered in deep purple carpet soft on bare feet as Louis can attest. The large windows that line the tops of the walls have long since been replaced with beautiful colored panes, from Harry’s stained glass phase. Each morning, Liam lights sage and rose candles, dispelling any bad energies and filling the space with a much different smell than it carried years ago. From the many years of being a hardware shop, only the till counter remains.  Chest height, and carved from beechwood by Liam and his father when Liam was just a boy, it is kept in mint condition. It’s there that Louis finds Liam and Zayn.

Usually, the shop enjoys a steady stream of customers through the day but remains quiet for the most part. But, October is a beast of a whole other nature.  Halloween seems to ignite a curiosity in the people of the town, drawing them to the magic shop in droves.  It takes Louis a good fifteen minutes and two solid shoves to get through the massive crowd of people lumbering around the shop and make his way to the counter.   

“Oi! You ever think of hiring a bouncer or summat?” Louis says elbowing a man who pushes into his space. “It’s a madhouse in here.”

Liam looks up from the customer is ringing up and offers him a warm smile in lieu of hello.  Perched on a stool next to Liam, Zayn juts his chin towards him in acknowledgment.

Louis makes his way around the counter, hopping up on a stool and leaning back against a bookcase.

“You offering up your services then?” Zayn asks with a smirk.  “Don’t know if you’re the right size for the job, mate.” Louis just rolls his eyes at him.

"No class today?" Louis asks, watching the way Liam twitches every time Zayn rocks the stool back on two legs precariously. Zayn notices the small movements too if the mischievous smile on his face is anything to go by.

“No, we’ve got this week off,” Zayn says. With one last wobble of the stool, he huffs out a laugh at Liam’s face and turns his attention to Louis.  “What are you getting into today? Trouble, I assume.”

Louis shrugs. “Might be, depending on what you’re doing I suppose.”

Zayn laughs quietly but shakes his head. “Sorry bro, papers to grade. Just taking a break to spend some time with this one. Actually, I’ve got to get back to it.”

Climbing off the stool and wrapping an arm around Liam’s shoulders from the back, he pulls him towards his chest and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. Louis rolls his eyes at the flush that creeps up the back of Liam’s neck. Honestly. They’ve been together for two years.

Zayn ruffles Louis’s hair playfully and then he’s gone, pushing through the crowd towards the door. Louis really doesn’t have anything planned for the day, the flat is too quiet when Harry is out, so he decides to stay where he is, watching Liam interact with the customers.

About an hour into people watching, Louis gets bored. Liam is still hard at work though, answering questions and ringing up sales, and Zayn has not returned. So, Louis decides to practice his charm while he sits around. Liam’s face will probably turn the same color as the carpet if he feels something while he's working with a customer, but they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

If they come to it actually. So far, the only person that’s actually felt anything at all is Harry. Despite Louis trapping Niall in his flat and forcing him to let him practice just about every chance he gets.

Forcing the feeling of ineptness way to the back of his mind, Louis focuses on the task at hand. Liam's a cuddler, giant bear that he is, and there was a time in his and Zayn's relationship that was a bit rocky. Many a night, Liam laid his head in Louis's lap while the older boy quietly consoled him. Louis thinks about that now, about rubbing his hand gently over Liam's head just like he used to.

Louis gives it his best, he really does, trying various touches and really trying to center his magic and thrust it outwards. But, by the time the crowd of shoppers is all but gone, and Liam sits across from him on the stool, he's gotten nowhere.

“What’s with the long face?” Liam asks with a gentle bop to Louis’s nose.

Louis swipes at him half-heartedly and sighs. "I've been sat here practicing the charm. Trying to get you to feel something."

Annoyance flashes over Liam’s face for half a second, but Louis’s obvious dismay must push that away. He leans forward and pats his leg with a consoling expression.

“I’m sure it will come to you, mate,” he says, ever the optimist. He glances around the shop, taking stock of the customers that remain. “How about this, I let you kick these people out and we take a stroll down to the chippy. My treat.”

Liam probably regrets the offer considerably, when a second later Louis simply tilts his head back and screams at the very top of his lungs.

The three remaining customers bustle out of the shop, fear-stricken, while Louis's screams of "Werewolf! Get out, there's a werewolf, run for your lives!" follow them out the door.

 

* * *

 

There's a tricky little space past tipsy and just shy of plastered. It's hard to find, especially if one moves too quickly, ending up far too drunk, far too fast. It's allusive and enticing and oh so worth it.  In it, one feels free enough to fly but aware enough to remember to fear the fall. Flushed and just a bit sweaty, swaying gently with the thump, thump, thump, of the baseline of the music, Louis congratulates himself for finding his way into that space.

Their flat is packed with people, friends, and friends of friends, and probably some people no one knows at all. It's loud and it's busy and the air around Louis practically sparkles with his energy. He's never been one to keep a firm grip on his magic, to strangle it and hide it away. Moreso when he's been drinking, when he feels like he's floating, he lets it simmer to the surface and sweep across his skin. Revels in the way the people around him drink it in without realizing what's happening. The way they laugh a bit louder, dance a little dirtier, drink a little deeper.

He's watching a girl now, Brandy or Becky or Bridget, whatever the fuck her name is. Watching her swing her hair back over her shoulder and sway her body for some boy. Louis laughs to himself, watching her skin shimmer a bit with his magic. The boy blinks, helplessly entranced. She had better send him a thank you note tomorrow.

Harry’s laugh pulls his attention away. Louis’s eyes sweep the living room, land on his best friend, leaning against the window sill with this long legs crossed at the ankle. There’s a flush in his cheeks, and he’s moving his arms a bit too much to be sober, but he’s not drunk yet, not really. Almost drunk Harry stands on tables and shouts declarations of love while drunk Harry curls around Louis and snuggles.

He's surrounded by people, which is the least surprising detail of the night. People are drawn to Harry. Leaning his weight more against the wall, Louis takes a sip of his drink and watches Harry charm them. Watches Harry just being Harry.

He’s telling some kind of story, something epic by the looks of it. Louis’s eyes trace his mouth. Imagines tracing over his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, imagines how soft and full it would feel.

Harry’s eyes snap to him, but he continues on with his story.  Through the haze of the liquor swimming around happily in his veins, Louis doesn’t even notice the shift in Harry’s focus, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. His eyes drag down to Harry’s throat, where his Adam’s apple bobs. His skin is soft there too, Louis knows from cuddling up and nosing in close. He’d like to do that now. He’d like to run his nose along the length of Harry’s neck, get his mouth on the skin that meets his jaw.  Would like to find out if it tastes like how it smells: vanilla and uniquely Harry. His mouth waters.

Harry shifts slightly, tilting his head towards the man to his right, drawing a beautiful line with his neck to where his shirt is doing nothing to cover the expanse of his chest. Would Harry let him bite him there, run his teeth along his skin and lap at the goosebumps that form? Would he like it? Louis’s hands open and close with the itch to use the tips of his fingers to circle each nipple and find out how Harry responds. Find out what kind of noises Louis can pull from him. And it’s got to be the liquor that's got him thinking this way, the liquor and the shirt and the energy in the room, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t tear his eyes away.

There's a crash from in the kitchen, glass breaking by the sound of it, and Louis's head snaps in the direction of the source. He should peel himself from the wall and go check it out, but Zayn's voice carries over to him just before he forces his body to do so. Irritated and louder than usual; he's in control of the situation. So Louis turns back, and the look on Harry's face steals the breath from his chest. The circle of people around him is still chattering away, completely unaware that Harry's eyes are blacker than they are green, of the tick in his jaw. Narrowing his eyes, Harry tilts his head and studies Louis's face. His chest heaves slightly and it draws Louis's eyes until Harry shifts and Louis is staring at the outline of Harry's dick in his obscenely tight pants.

Oh. _Oh._

Panic grabs Louis by the balls and tugs, causing his heart to rabbit around in his chest so violently he’s sure if he were to look down he would be able to see it trying to burst free. But he can’t look down, not with the way his eyes are locked on Harry’s as he disengages from his adoring fans to stalk across the room towards him.

The people closest to Louis start moving faster, dancing with a filthier edge, and if he could focus on anything other than Harry right now he would rein his magic in. He can’t, is the thing, so by the time Harry’s toes nudge against his, the air is thick with it.

Harry watches him for a moment, eyes roaming his face. When he speaks it’s barely above a whisper, but it echoes around in Louis’s brain. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from whimpering.

“Do you want to tell me what was going on just then?” He leans forward towards Louis, probably not even intentionally and his necklace swings gently between them.

And yeah, Louis might have just been caught but this is Harry. Harry, he knows how to handle. "Afraid I don't know what you're on about, love," he says, cloaking his voice in innocent curiosity, sounding much more unbothered than he feels.

Harry’s body shifts a little closer and Louis watches a bead of sweat drip down the middle of his chest. The desire to flatten his tongue and run it down the trail the sweat leaves behind flashes through his mind before he can think to stop it.

Harry lets out a hiss and braces himself with a hand on the wall next to Louis’s head.

“That, that just then,” He grits out, practically growling in Louis’s face. Louis blinks.

"What are you talking about?" Louis tries again. Harry doesn't buy it if his eye roll is any indication, and Louis doesn't blame him.

Harry visibly takes a second to steady himself, and when he speaks again it's with an even tone. He nudges their foreheads together, giving Louis a reprieve from his prodding stare.

“What else have you got swimming around in that dirty mind?” He asks quietly. And Louis sways. Maybe Harry would like him to show him, it seems like it, with the way he’s panting openly, practically breathing into Louis’s mouth. That’s not a good idea at all. A terrible idea even.

Louis closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, centering his energy and pulling his magic back from the room a bit. He doesn't need much for Harry anyway, it seems. In his mind's eye, he flicks through hundreds of memories he has of  Harry in various states of undress, voyeur that he is. He settles on one from last week. Louis had come into the kitchen to find him standing shirtless in front of the sink. Muscles in his back working as he scrubbed over the morning's pots and pans.     

He focuses on the memory and brings it to the present. Imagines that instead of hopping up on the counter and demanding toast, he had slipped up behind Harry and draped himself over his back. Imagines the way Harry would have slumped a little against the sink if Louis had let his hand wander, over across his chest,  down along the flat expanse of his stomach, down to his thinly covered dick. Imagines the feeling of it pressed against his palm.

In front of Louis, the very real, very much still crowded in his space Harry, sucks in an unsteady breath and Louis snaps open his eyes, letting the memory sink back.

In a sudden movement that startles Louis, Harry grabs his chin and holds him still. He's gripping him too tightly, most definitely leaving a thumb-shaped bruise at the hinge of his jaw, the twinge makes Louis's toes curl in his sneakers. Harry's eyes drop to Louis's neck, watching his pulse jump there.

“You’re scared,” Harry rasps quietly.

It’s not a question, but Louis nods anyway. He’s terrified, that he’s been found out, that Harry is going to freak out, that Harry will leave him, that Harry won’t. He doesn’t say any of that, but somehow he knows that Harry reads it right off his face.

Shifting his hand, Harry drags his thumb over Louis's lips. Slowly, softly, probing. And Louis has not an iota of self-control because he's opening his mouth and sucking on the pad of Harry's thumb without even a second thought. Harry's eyes float closed and he shuffles even more into Louis's space, caging him in against the wall.

Another crashing noise sounds from Louis's right, closer this time, and it brings him back to reality. A reality in which he is standing in the middle of a crowded room with his best mates finger in his mouth. His entire body locks up with tension. Harry lets him go abruptly and spins on his heel.  Slumped against the wall and trying to remember what it's like to breathe normally, Louis watches him melt into the crowd of people.

 

* * *

 

Chilly weather crowds in on the last dregs of summer heat in a sneaky, unpredictable kind of way. The days shorten slowly, but stay warm enough for t-shirts and joggers, while the nights settle in with a cold breeze that drifts under the cracks of the door and through the old windows of the flat. It itches at his bare skin even from where he’s bundled up under the duvet, waking him up in a way that leaves him grumpy and pouting.  He lays there for a few minutes, in between awake and asleep, stubbornly trying to ignore the goosebumps up and down his arms.

He's prone to getting cold, always has been, so he rarely sleeps in just pants. But, he'd spent the majority of the afternoon with Niall, desperately trying to get a handle on the new charm. By the end, he'd only accomplished giving himself a major headache and covering himself in a layer of sweat. When he'd sullenly dragged himself to bed, he'd been too pissy to think ahead to the night's dropping temperatures.

When his teeth start to chatter, he gives up. Wrapping himself up in the duvet, he shuffles down the hall to Harry’s room. It’s open, partly because it would be useless to try and keep Louis out and partly because Harry has never wanted to keep him out.

He’s sleeping, Louis can tell by the cadence of his breathing, slow and deep in a hypnotizing kind of way. The moonlight slipping in through the window casts a light over the bed and illuminates the way he’s laying on his side, unruly curls spilling over the pillow.

Curling his toes a little in Harry’s soft area rug, he makes his way across the room the same way he has a million times before, muscle memory making a light unnecessary. He shoves at Harry’s shoulder a bit, trying to push him over towards the other side so that Louis can scoot in. He goes, mumbling unintelligibly but not meanly, worming his body over. Louis lets the duvet pool at his feet and shivers as the cold air instantly grabs at his skin. Hastily, he wiggles under Harry’s blankets and slots his body against Harry, feeling immediately warmer.

Harry hums lowly in the back of his throat and shifts forward, lining up their knees and draping his arm across Louis’s middle. He breathes quietly in Louis’s ear and Louis counts the little breaths that warm the side of his face. He’s asleep before he gets to three.

 

Louis is dreaming, he knows. Having one of those dreams that he can tell is not real, and it makes him feel almost more comfortable in the knowledge. Slowly, he turns his head to take in his surroundings. Some island, it would seem.

The sun bouncing off the crystal clear water sends shimmering light across Louis's tanned skin as he floats peacefully. The cool ocean waves rocking him back and forth, back and forth compliment the sticky, humid beach air perfectly. And as far as dreamlands go, he's got to think that this probably couldn't get any better. Until he becomes aware, doesn't see or hear but suddenly knows, that Harry is floating with him. Spinning languidly through the water, he spots him, only a foot away floating on his back in a way that puts on display every muscle he possesses. Never in his life has Louis been more grateful for REM sleep.

Because in dreams he can touch. It doesn't matter that they are best mates, roommates, that everything could end up totally and completely fucked up. It doesn't matter because it isn't real. And Louis can _touch_.

Dragging his fingers up through the water, he grabs a hold of Harry's ankle and pulls him over, letting their bodies gently bump together. Harry's eyes are closed, but he smiles serenely, comfortable with such close proximity. Beads of water litter his belly, sliding down and pooling at the dip of his hip bones. With the tip of his finger, Louis follows them, dragging his touch slowly over Harry's sun-warmed skin. The action makes Harry's toes curl, so Louis does it again. And again. Until his fingers have danced over the expanse of harry's abdomen a dozen times and Harry's chest is heaving slightly. And Louis notices with a gulp, he's hard. Deliciously and impressively hard in his swimming trunks. Louis licks his lips and gently hooks a finger in the band of Harry's trunks, intent on slowly pulling them down and off.  Intent on tossing them in the water to never be seen again, so Louis can always see. See and touch.

Jesus.

A stingray floats gently towards them, somehow distracting him. It brushes along his fingertips as it passes, cool and smooth. And buzzing.

Vibrating actually. Do stingrays vibrate? If so, how do you politely ask one to stop? He’s kind of in the middle of a dream here.

With a crash, Harry’s phone shimmies off the nightstand and onto the floor. Louis’s eyes spring open. That's the end of that dream then.

Reaching towards the headboard and pointing his toes, Louis stretches his body with a groan. After a second he realizes that something’s wrong. Snapping his head around he finds Harry, practically shoved against the wall. He’s awake, sitting up stiffly and holding himself as still as possible.

A wave of panic hits Louis.

“Haz, H.” The panic doesn’t abate when Harry casts his eyes up to the ceiling and clenches his jaw. “What’s wrong, what's happening.”

Harry’s gaze drops, to his lap and still not to Louis, but it’s something. He takes a shuddering breath and clears his throat.

“Were you, um,” he starts, mumbling so lowly Louis leans forward to hear him better. Harry tracks the movement with a sideways glance. “Were you dreaming, Lou?”

Louis furrows his brow in confusion. Because what the fuck does that have to do with anything? He searches Harry's face for an answer, watches as he clenches and unclenches his hands around the sheets. He's sweating a bit, a thin layer of sheen glimmers on his chest and for a second Louis remembers how the water droplets had looked there instead.

And that thought brings him to a startling realization.

“Oh, fuck me!” Louis groans in embarrassment, dropping back onto the pillows and covering his face with his hands.

Next to him, Harry shifts a little in the bed. Moves a little closer, emboldened by Louis’s embarrassed reaction.  “Yeah, I um. I think it might have been headed that way.”

Louis lets his arms fall to the bed and turns his head to glare at Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry has the gall to smirk smugly and bat his eyelashes.

“If you even think about mentioning this again,” Louis growls at him in what he hopes is an intimidating way. “I will tell Liam about the time you got drunk and had a wet dream on his couch.”

Harry gasps in outrage. “I was eighteen, you monster!”

Throwing the duvet off his body, Harry gets up and makes to climb over Louis. He stops straddled over his stomach, and Louis nearly bites straight through his lip when he finds himself face to face with Harry's hard dick tented in his threadbare pants.

"I'm going to go take care of this," Harry says like that's something people say to each other. "Try not to tell any of my secrets while I'm gone."

With that, he climbs over Louis and bangs out of the room. In utter and complete shock, Louis lays in the bed staring at the wall, listening to Harry grumble about disloyalty on his way down the hall.

This can not keep happening. Not if Louis has any hopes of keeping his sanity.

 

* * *

 

 

“Liam, we have a code red emergency and you need to stop what you are doing right now and help me.”

Liam doesn’t move a muscle. Literally. Louis is pretty sure he’s even holding his breath. Well then.

Pulling the duvet off with a snap and plopping himself unceremoniously onto Liam’s chest, he pulls open Liam’s eyelid. It’s a testimony to the type of friendship they have, that Liam merely opens the other one with a sigh.

“I’m sleeping,” Liam says. Begs, really. “Stop breaking into my flat,” he tacks on as an afterthought.  

“Did you not hear me? Code red, Liam,” he says, shoving at Liam’s chest for emphasis, “Not yellow, not green, _red_.”

Liam rolls his eyes and starts to blindly feel around on the bed behind Louis. Finding the edges of the duvet he yanks it up over Louis and drags him down onto his chest. Louis goes, nuzzling into his neck. It may be a code red situation, but he wouldn't mind a cuddle, plus it's just gone 5 a.m. So.

“What exactly is it that you need, Lou,” Liam asks, voice gravelly with sleep. He absentmindedly pets at Louis’s hair. That’s nice.

“I need to get my hands on the magical methodology books you’re hiding from me,” Louis answers, snuggling in closer. “I have to figure out why this charm only works on Harry. And why it works when I don’t _mean_ for it to work.”

The petting stops.

“I’ve told you no less than a hundred times that I’m not hiding any books away. Why don’t you believe me?” Liam asks. He’s annoyed, but not so annoyed that he pushes Louis away. It’s a nice healthy level of annoyance really.

Louis pats him on the chest sweetly before wiggling around, all elbows in Liam’s middle, so he’s sitting up and looking down into his face again.

“Because, my dear Liam, if I haven’t found the answer in the books you have given me, and there are no other books, then the answer can not be found,” Louis tilts his head and cocks a brow. “Do you see the problem?”

Liam’s expression shifts slightly and Louis thinks maybe he’s approaching really annoyed, so he hops off the bed before he can be flung. Sighing heavily, Liam throws back the duvet and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Searching for his slippers with his bare feet, he scrubs his hand over his face.

“I do, see the problem, many problems in fact.” Standing, he shuffles closer to Louis, where he’s leaning against the dresser. “The first being the ungodly hour you decided to come to me with your problem. Why couldn’t this wait another two hours?”

“Came here earlier enough to give you a chance to make me breakfast, didn’t I?”

Louis is quite athletic, but sometimes Liam moves with the speed of a real-life goddamn superhero, so Louis's reflexes really aren't at fault when he doesn't duck after Liam spins towards the bed and back again.  Feathers go flying every which way when Liam smacks him square in the face with one of his extra pillows.

Liam’s pancake batter is much lumpier than Harry’s. And he doesn’t add cinnamon. Or vanilla. Which probably means that they aren’t going to be nearly as good, but Louis doesn’t actually have a death wish, so he doesn’t point any of that out. Instead, perched on the counter, watching Liam make them breakfast, he sips his tea quietly.

Liam has thrown open the kitchen window, and aside from the occasional passing car down on the street, and the twittering of the birds, the kitchen is bursting with early morning comfortable silence. So, when the toilet flushes in the bathroom just off the kitchen, it startles both men a bit. Liam sighs and shoots Louis a withering look, obviously not up for practical jokes at this time of the day, but Louis shakes his head in denial.

Taking another sip of his tea, he shrugs. “Wasn’t me mate, no magical mischief since last night, in fact.”

Liam seems to take it for truth and arms himself with the spatula, turning towards the door and puffing out his chest. Luckily, when the door swings open, it’s Niall who steps out, rubbing his eyes sleepily and scratching at his belly under his white t-shirt. Honestly, what the fuck was he going to do with a spatula?

“How did you get in here?” Liam asks in exasperation.

Niall gives him a confused sort of look. “The front door?”  He says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder towards the foyer. Liam spins around to stare at Louis, throwing his hands in the air, apparently speechless.

Louis shrugs. “It’s not like you’ve got a moat,” he tells him blandly.

While Liam closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths, Niall meanders over to the stove.

“Pancakes?” He asks, looking up at Louis, who confirms with a nod. “Did he put in vanilla like H does?”

Liam’s eyes snap open at that, and Niall correctly reads the aggravation in his expression.  He gives Liam a wide berth as he makes his way around him to slot himself sideways between Louis’s knees and steal his tea.

Taking a sip, he makes a disgusted face. “Mate, that's in desperate need of sugar.”

Louis rolls his eyes and snatches the cup back. “Sugar doesn’t belong anywhere near tea, you neanderthal.”

Flipping a pancake, Liam stops their bickering before it gets anywhere good.

“Zayn knows this woman, just a little bit out of town. I went with him once to speak to her,  we’re going to go see her,” he says decidedly.

Niall reaches over and grabs a pancake from the plate and starts pulling it apart with his fingers. “What are you going to see this woman for?” He asks through a full mouth.

Louis languidly runs his fingers through Niall’s hair, pouting dramatically. “Because I’m a mediocre witch, who is apparently incapable of mastering even the simplest of tasks.”

His theatrical tone of voice has Liam rolling his eyes over the pancakes and Niall petting his knee soothingly.

Niall’s always been the better friend.

Liam flips the last pancake onto the serving plate and points the spatula at Louis.

“Firstly, it’s not a simple charm. Secondly, I really don’t see the cause for all the dramatics.”

In a smart move of self-preservation, Niall slides away from Louis and to the other side of the kitchen, out of the line of fire. Louis narrows his eyes at Liam, who's spatula wielding hand drops to his side.

"You think I'm being dramatic, do you, Liam?" Louis asks, ominously quiet. Sliding down from the counter with a soft tap of bare feet, he crosses to the sink. Without being touched, water explodes from the faucet, filling the sink at an alarming rate. The drawers lining the cabinets all burst open in tandem, causing Niall to hop up on the counter with a yelp.

"Lou, calm down-" The rest of Liam's sentence is cut off when a gust of wind blows through the window and smacks him fully in the face, blowing his t-shirt back and sending the cat scurrying down the hall with a shriek.  In the living room, Liam's ancient record player crackles to life and classical music filters through the flat.  From the open drawers, silverware leaps out and slams onto the counter. After a beat, the air around the forks and spoons shimmers and they give a tremble before springing to life and dancing around in a twirling waltz.

“Everything,” Louis yells frantically over the sound of the water and the wind. His hair whipping around his face.  “Every charm I’ve ever set my sights on I have mastered. But this,” spinning around toward Niall, he throws his hands out as if to thrust his magic at him. Niall squeezes his eyes shut and tenses, bracing for impact. When nothing happens, he peeks open one eye. Louis drops his hands with a sigh. “This I can’t do.”

The record shuts off with an abrupt scraping noise. The wind and the water stop just as quickly as it’d started.  Louis stands in the middle of the kitchen, hanging his head in defeat, fists clenched at his sides. Niall hops from the counter and makes his way to him, pulling him into a tight embrace and rubbing circles on his back. Liam quickly shoves the now quiet silverware back into the drawers and comes around the other side of Louis, pulling both boys to him and holding tight.

They stand like that for some time, rocking slightly and just breathing together.  Louis lets out a quiet sniffle every once in a while. The boys just shuffle in closer. When Louis's body relaxes, they let their arms drop, but stay close.

Opening up a cabinet above his head, Niall pulls out three thermoses and places them on the counter.

“Okay, Liam get the kettle,” reaching around Louis to the box of tea, he makes quick work of dropping one in each mug. Turning around, he meets Louis’s watery smile with a small nod. “Tea on the go, we’re going to get this sorted.”

All the boys have their attributes, but Niall’s got a way of clearing all the shit out of a situation with one quick grin. Louis doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to repay him for that. He doesn’t have much time to mull over it though, as Liam and Niall usher him through the door.

Switching off the lights and locking the door on the way out, they leave the flat with a snap of the door and a wisecrack about an impending water bill.  Their voices grow faint as they make their way down the hall. Once again, peace and quiet settled over the place.  In a blur of gray and white, the cat streaks down the hall and into the living room. Hot on the tail of a wayward fork and spoon couple.

Liam wears a jumper for the ride because Niall tends to get car sick on long rides and an open window usually prevents that. Louis does not wear a jumper. Mostly because it's still hot in the sun and he's refusing to let go of summer, but a little bit because he forgot the one Harry had laid out for him on the couch before leaving to do signings.

Because of these unfortunate series of events, the hour-long car ride is supplemented by near-constant bickering. Because Louis is cold and Liam is insensitive prick. And because it's not Liam's fault that Niall can't sit in a car without hurling, honestly.

Needless to say, when Liam finally pulls the car to a stop in front of an ominous looking old cottage, it’s to all of their collective relief.

Niall is out of the car first; flinging the door open and nearly throwing himself onto the gravel drive. Still looking a little green around the gills, despite the godforsaken open window. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he observes the cottage with a small shake of his head.

Shingles from the roof lay helter-skelter on the ground surrounding the place, while some remain on the heavily patched roof, still clinging on by sheer luck. The windows are thick with grime and dirt, while others have cracked and missing panes. The garden is hopelessly overgrown, sporting weeds of thorn and bush that would probably stand as high as Niall's waist, should he want to measure. Which he decidedly does not.

Turning back towards the boys, who are climbing out of the car and coming around to stand with him, he makes a face that Louis knows will be followed by some variation of “I don't know about this lads.”

Before he can get it out, from the porch, the door slams open and through it bounds an absolute beast of a dog. Niall yelps and runs into Louis’s arms, trying desperately to avoid the massive blur of black fur and flinging slobber.

Liam clucks his tongue at Niall and holds out his hand to the dog, who sits down so abruptly and with such force, Louis is sure the ground quakes.

“Oh, stop,” Liams says, scratching the dog behind the ears. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

“And just how do you know that?” Niall asks dubiously.

Liam shrugs. “Would have bitten us already wouldn't he have?”

Niall’s head snaps around to stare at Louis. Louis rolls his eyes.

"Real sound logic there, Li," he grouses, peeling Niall off him with a pat on the back. "Apply that to all dangerous situations, do you?"

A tinkling voice calls from the porch and for the second time that day, Niall startles so soundly he almost jumps out of his skin. Louis is starting to worry about the poor kid’s nerves. He’s bound to develop an ulcer under all this stress.

“Despite the flawed logic, he is actually correct. Brutus wouldn’t hurt a fly. Which is disappointing, as his purpose here is protection.”

In a cherry patterned bubble gum pink sundress, sporting pigtail braids that fall low at her waist and end in matching pink bows, the young woman on the porch could not possibly look more out of place in front of the gray and dismal cottage. Her deeply tanned arms are laden with jeweled bangles. Louis is momentarily sidetracked by the way the sun bounces off them, but he refocuses when she speaks again.

“Hello again, sweet Liam,” she tilts her head in recognition, a warm and welcoming smile on her face. “Please do come in.”

Without another word, she turns and disappears back into the house, leaving the front door ajar. The boys follow, after a quick and silent squabble that results in Liam leading the way.

Louis is last through the door, so he turns to close it behind him, and upon turning back around promptly smacks into Niall’s frozen form.

“Ouch, what the fuck Nia-” Dropping his hand from his nose where he was trying to rub away the ache from colliding with Niall’s shoulder, Louis stares around them, dumbfounded with a gaping mouth.

It’s as if while passing through the front door, they were transported to a completely different home. There are stood in a circular foyer, under their feet lay gleaming, unblemished hardwood floors. Above them, a glittering chandler twinkles in the light of the sun that is beaming through the crystal clear windows. The walls, a deep and comforting cream color, house portraits and poems all framed in matching brushed nickel. Every surface is positively spotless and well kept.

The foyer opens up into a long hall, and at the end, the boys see the young woman sat at a round table, her chin in her hand with a serene smile on her face. They make their way down, passing three closed doors and ogling the beautiful art on the walls. When they reach the new room, a sitting room Louis thinks it would be called, she gestures for them to sit and they obey, peering around at the decor curiously. She lets them peer around while she addresses them, voice mellow and slow like honey.

"I find introductions to be laboursome and best done with haste, so as to get the worst done and over with. As our dear Liam may or may not have told you, my name is Vadoma."

Liam clears his throat and she tips her head towards him, calming any nerves he might feel with a gentle smile. “This is Niall, and just there is Louis. They are my friends.”

They nod along and she smiles in acknowledgment. "I do hope that the absence of Zayn from this visit does not denote his absence from your life."

The way she asks, sincerely concerned with an earnest lilt to her voice, has Louis pulling his eyes from the shimmering turquoise drapes and looking between them.

Liam smiles shyly and shakes his head, “No, no we’re fine. I just thought it best we do this one alone. The three of us, I mean.”

She studies his face for a moment, with a calm look of contemplation. Louis is a second away from fidgeting when she gives a nod and pats Liam’s hand. Turning slightly, she quirks a brow at Louis.

“Right, then we can move on to your problem,” she raises from the table smoothing out her dress. “But, first if you will just excuse me for one moment.”

They mutter their "of course"s and "yes please, go ahead"s but she's gone from the room so quickly it's doubtful she heard them.

Louis leans forward and peers at Liam. "How does she know I've got the problem?" He asks in a conspiratory whisper.

Liam simply shrugs deeply and shakes his head. Louis sits back properly as she comes bustling back into the room, placing a steaming purple mug in front of Niall and once again taking her seat.

“There you are. That will help with that queasiness,” she says matter of factly, rubbing at her own stomach in sympathy.  

Niall looks at the other boys with wide eyes and she giggles.

"I can't read minds if that's what you're wondering. My mother was a Romani seer, my father a Were, my father's mother a wonderfully gifted witch," she pauses to adjust her bangles and shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. "So I can feel your queasiness, here," she points to her own stomach.

Looking at Louis, she taps her chest above her heart. “And I can feel your sadness here.”

Louis looks towards Liam, who nods at him encouragingly. “Well, yes. I’ve been having trouble with a charm. A psychic charm.”

He pauses for her response but she merely blinks, waiting patiently for him to continue.

He clears his throat and glances over at Niall. For a second, he watches him sip his tea. When Niall raises his brow, Louis turns back to her.

"The thing is, I can't get it to work. Not on these two anyway," he points to the boys on either side of him. "Or Zayn, either. Only on my friend Harry."

She nods calmly and clasps her hands in front of her on the table. “Those types of charms take an immense amount of energy, and work best for those with a deep connection.”

Louis rubs at the back of his neck. "Yes well the thing is with Harry, the friend I mentioned, it doesn't take much energy at all. In fact, I can't seem to turn it off now that I've figured out how to do it." His voice is taking on a panicked edge, he realizes as Liam takes his hand on his own and squeezes once.

Vadoma studies him silently, dark eyes searching his face. Louis counts forty beats of his own heart before she speaks again.

“And am I correct in assuming it is this Harry’s scent that you have wrapped up around you?” She asks without accusation.

Louis blinks. Harry’s what?

She smiles at his reaction and taps her nose. “Were.”

Louis huffs out a breath and shrugs. “I sleep in his bed when I’m cold.” It’s not an accurate description of their codependence but Louis has not a single clue how he would even begin to explain that.

She seems to understand anyway.

“Liam dear,” she says still watching Louis’s face. “You’ll need to stop on the way home for ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, if I’m not mistaken.”

Liam furrows his brow and looks between Louis and Vadoma, settling on staring at Niall in confusion when neither looks back at him. “Uh. Okay?”

With a smile, she takes Louis's hand in her own and leans forward slightly. "Matters such as these must be handled delicately. But, I feel with you, it is best to handle this as one would a plaster and a wound." Louis clenches his jaw nervously and she squeezes his hand. "Your Harry, he is so easily influenced by your magic, by everything about you, because he is your mirror soul. Your Soulmate."

The silence in the room is deafening. Louis is pretty sure he can actually hear Niall blinking. He waits for Vadoma to laugh, to tip her head back and giggle, to point her finger at him and yell “Gotcha!”

It never comes.

After five long, tense moments, Louis turns to Liam.

“She’s right about the ice cream.”

 

When Liam drops him off at the flat, Niall gets out and hugs him tightly. Louis’s  fingers are sticky and cold from holding the ice cream, and he stuffs them in the pockets of his jeans after he waves them off. In the cool autumn night, he stands there alone long after the taillights of the car fade away.

He’s not scared. Not really, not yet. Just taking a minute.

Harry is standing in the kitchen in bare feet and just his pants when Louis makes it through the door. He quirks an eyebrow at him in question but Louis just holds up his finger and drops his keys on the hall table. Harry silently watches while Louis toes off his shoes and turns away, plodding off to the bathroom.

Under the nearly too hot shower spray, Louis feels like he can breathe for the first time in at least an hour. The small bathroom steams up quickly, the air thick with steam and the tiles dripping with perspiration. Louis uses Harry’s body wash, apple cinnamon and revels in the way every inch of his body relaxes in reaction to the familiar scent. The scent of Harry, the scent of home.

Harry is in his bed when Louis goes to look for him after toweling off and pulling on a pair of pants. Sitting up against the headboard, he doesn’t say anything when Louis comes in, instead lifting up the duvet and patting the bed in a silent question.

Louis goes because there is no other place he would rather be. Curling up under the duvet, against Harry's side, he breathes deeply when Harry starts to stroke softly along his back. They sit like that for a while, hours, minutes, days, years, who knows how long. However long it takes for Louis to feel safe and calm. Well, calmer.

“Liam took me to see someone today,” he whispers.  The atmosphere seems to call for quiet.

Harry makes a low sound of acknowledgment and keeps rubbing his hand along Louis's spine. "The girl with the good weed over on Lancaster?" He asks lowly.

Louis huffs a tiny laugh at that. “No, although that would have probably been a good idea.” There’s a thread loose on the edge of the duvet. Louis pulls at it gently, testing how far it will unravel. “Went to see one of Zayn’s magical consorts, Vadoma is her name. Niall googled it on the way home. Turns out it’s Romani for ‘all knowing’.”

Harry drags his hand lower, letting his pinky brush against the elastic of Louis's pants every time it passes. "And what did this all-knowing Vadoma tell you?"

The thread stops pulling along the cloth and Louis fiddles with it between his fingers.

“She told me that you’re my soulmate,” Louis whispers to the duvet.

Harry to his credit, doesn’t falter but continues stroke along Louis’s back, sure and steady strokes that might be the only thing from keeping Louis’s heart from beating out of his chest.

“Oh, only that then?” Harry asks flippantly with a shrug of his shoulder.

Louis jerks his head around to stare at him incredulously and can’t help the giggle that escapes him at the goofy expression on Harry’s face.

“Oi! Sorry, were you looking for the winning lotto numbers, then,” Louis laughs, shoving at Harry’s chest. “So sorry to disappoint. Honestly, how will I ever live with myself?”

With his left hand, Harry grabs Louis' wrists and pulls them to his chest. With his right, he reaches over and grabs Louis's thigh, sliding him onto his lap with one solid tug.

“You won’t have to live with yourself, you’ll live with me and I’ll live with you. Until till we are old and gray and move into a nursing home. Then you and Zayn can prank the nurses together,” Harry says. The smile on his face is sweet, warm. Louis kind of wants to crumple into his arms.

“Yeah?” Louis asks just barely a whisper. “Even when I’m old and gray?”

Harry lets go of his thigh in favor of wrapping his hand around his jaw, holding it tightly and rubbing a circle with his thumb. “Yeah, even then.”

This time, when Harry leans into his space watching Louis’s lips and making it clear exactly what his intentions are, there’s no fear. Louis meets him halfway, softly pressing his lips to Harry’s. And it feels, it feels like he’s been trapped in a cell for seventeen years and Harry is his first taste of freedom.

All that. Just in one chaste press of lips.

When Harry presses harder, titling Louis’s head to make the kiss deeper, Louis moans into his mouth and flexes his fingers. Harry gives in, letting go of his wrists and Louis’s hands immediately find their way into Harry’s hair. He anchors himself there, going soft and pliant in a way that lets Harry explore his mouth and take.

It gets to be a lot and not enough, very quickly. Louis whines a bit but Harry just pulls him tighter to his chest, and for a second the world is spinning. Until Louis lands on his back on the bed with a soft thump.

His legs spread on their own accord, making room for Harry’s hips in a way that must mean he was made to fit there. And Louis guesses he was, they both were, made for this. Made to fit. Made for each other.

That thought has Louis arching up into Harry, and his hands scrambling down his back. Harry mouths over his neck, stopping to suck a bruise right on his pulse point. All Louis can do is whimper through it. Try to remember how to breathe.

“You smell good, smell like me,” he grits out in a register so low Louis’s toes curl. “Smell like mine.”

Louis’s sidetracked for a minute, focusing on lifting his hips to help Harry drags his pants down. When Harry sits up on his knees to pull his own down and cast them aside, Louis’s mouth waters at the sight of him, hard and leaking.

Watching Harry lean over and rummage through the nightstand, hopefully in search of lube, please God let him be looking for lube, he remembers what Harry had said.

“I am. I am yours,” he responds breathlessly. Harry freezes. The look on his face when he looks at Louis drags a whimper from the back of his throat.

As quickly as Louis has ever seen him do anything, Harry slicks up three of his fingers and tosses the lube next to Louis on the bed. Slotting himself back into the space of Louis’s thighs, he hauls his knee up then grabs hold of his face. Looming over him, he presses one slick finger to Louis’s rim, testing.

“Say it again,” he growls, honest to God growls.

Louis blinks.

“I’m yours,” he barely gets the word out before Harry is pushing in, sliding his finger into Louis’s heat straight up to the last knuckle. He kisses him deeply, tongue mimicking the movements of his finger.

Louis feels like he’s losing his mind.

He gives him a moment to breathe, pulling his mouth away but staying so close that Louis has no choice but to stare at his bitten red lips. The instant Louis feels like he’s ready, Harry knows, so in tune with his boy that he doesn’t have to say a word. He gives him a second finger, scissoring them apart. Making space for himself.

When slides a third finger past his rim, rubbing thoroughly against his prostate, Louis nearly screams. He arches off the bed so wildly, Harry is forced to shove him down with a hand on his chest.

“Look at that, so beautiful,” Harry says in awe. “So responsive for me, baby. What did I do to deserve such a beautiful boy?”

Louis shudders around his fingers. He’s got to stop, he's got to stop talking like that. Slow and sweet and deep. Or this is going to end a lot faster than they planned.

He must understand that because he stops whispering to him. But he holds him there, holds him pressed into the mattress while he fingers him into a whimpering mess.

When he speaks again, it’s practically into Louis’s mouth.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Louis throws his head back. Ready? God, what is Harry even waiting for?

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes," he babbles. "Harry, please I'm ready."

Harry kisses him quiet, lining himself up. “Shhh, baby. I know. I’ve got you.”

Louis clings to him when he starts to pushes in, fucking into him steadily. It hurts, burns in the way he’s stretching to accommodate him. But it’s good. So good, better than he thought it’d be. And a bit overwhelming. Especially the way Harry presses against his prostate without even trying, so big he can’t avoid filling him up in all the right ways.

When Harry moves Louis lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Harry’s thrust pushing it out of him in a huff. And right from the start, it’s perfect. A hard, punishing pace that is doing nothing for Louis stamina.

“Haz. Harry, I’m not,” Louis stammers in between thrusts. His fingers are probably making little bruises across Harry’s shoulders. “It’s. I’m gonna come.”

Harry slams into him harder and bites at his mouth, sloppily licking at him. “Yeah? Gonna come on my dick, baby? Gonna be so beautiful.”

And that's. Wel,l that's just about all Louis can take. Harry thrusts twice more, sending him skirting up the bed before Louis is clenching around his dick and coming all over his own chest.

Harry slows down, fucks him through it with gentle strokes. "Fuck. That's it, baby, that's perfect."

He keeps his pace slow while Louis blinks back from the land of orgasm, whispering sweet nothings to him and watching his face in awe. When Louis’s eyes seem to find focus, he starts back up at the punishing pace.

It's starting to hurt, just a shade too sensitive now, but it's still good. And it's still Harry. His Harry, now. The thought has him clenching down again and Harry groans.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come,” he says. “You feel amazing.”

Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and uses his hand to tug his chin down, make him look him in the eye.

“Do I feel like yours?” He asks with a deliberately slow lick of his lips, looking up through his lashes.

Harry can’t respond, too busy fucking in one last time and coming.

Louis runs his fingers through his hair until his breathing returns to normal. Harry pulls out, but they stay that way, wrapped up in each other and just listening to the way their hearts beat in synchronization.

"Hey, Lou?" Harry asks sleepily.

Louis hums in response and lets his eyes slip closed. He’s gone to sleep in worse situations than under a sweaty and naked Harry Styles.

“The charm was my idea. Liam helped put it together.”

Louis’s eyes pop open. “Get up!” He yelps, shoving at Harry’s shoulders. “Up, up, up!”

Harry just snuggles in closer, dropping his weight heavily onto to Louis' chest, but turning to look at his face properly. He must decide that the danger is minimal as he lets his eyes slip closed.

“Sorry,” He says around a yawn. “I’ve been waiting a long while, you know.”

Louis huffs haughtily and gives up on trying to shove him off.

“I’m not interested in your excuses, Harold,” he pinches softly at his arm. “You’re going to have to make up for this now. Big time.”

Harry yawns again and nods his head. “Be my life’s mission, that.”

And Louis is feeling gracious, and very thoroughly fucked, so he lets him fall to sleep.

 

In the morning, the sun shone down, having no alternative, on two people deeply, irrevocably, and irreversibly in love.


	2. Truly, madly, deeply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, when the man you’ve been pining over for four years finds out that he is your soulmate and decides to accept his feelings once and for all, everything seems just a whole lot better.
> 
> Or: A look at this whole soulmate ordeal through Harry's eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for the wonderful response I've received towards the first part of this fic. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, and reblogged. I hope you like this one as well! 
> 
> As always, thank you Chels for being the best beta anyone could ever ask for, you are lovely beyond words.

 

Liam’s voice, clipped and pitched a bit higher than normal, is the first thing Harry hears upon entering the store. Three years of friendship tell him Liam is irritated and trying very hard to pretend he’s not. Taking just a few steps in, he spots him. Standing behind the counter in a white jumper, he’s addressing a small woman across from him. 

“Actually, yes we do have one more variety of love potion left. Guaranteed to find you love. You get 24 hours with your new love and then you turn into a frog. Worth it though, right?” Liam cocks his head and raises his brow as the girl on the other side of the counter blanches and quickly exits the store, brushing past Harry rudely on her way out. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Liam murmurs to himself darkly.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering towards the counter, Harry barks out a laugh. 

“Getting tired of the love potion requests mate?” Reaching into the candy dish next to the register, Harry finds a mint and pops it in his mouth.  “Always gets worse right before the new semester.” 

Cocking a brow, Liam pushes away from the counter and walks around it towards the bookshelves, throwing a look at Harry over his shoulder. “I seem to remember, a time not so long ago, that you came to me with a similar request.” 

Harry followed after him, playing with the mint in his mouth and running his fingertips along the spines of the old books that sat on the shelves. 

“Yes, well I’m a changed man now,” He says distractedly. Stopping behind Liam, he pulls out a book and flips through it idly. 

Liam huffs out a small laugh while scanning the spines of the books in front of him. He takes a few books down and continues on down the rows. Harry quickly replaces his book and follows after him. 

“So, what’s up Harry,” Liam asks, eyes still on scanning the shelves. “Writing anything good?”

Harry leans against the bookshelf and crosses his ankles, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I thought I was. But, at the moment no.” He shrugs when Liam looks at him curiously. “Writer's block. Helps to get out of the house, get my mind off of it for a while.” 

Liam nods sympathetically and pulls down three more books. Arms laden with heavy leather binding and years of dust, he makes his way to the table and drops them with a thud. 

Harry slides into a seat and points towards the pile with his chin. “What’s all this then?” He asks. 

Liam dusts his hands off on his pants with a wrinkle of his nose and slides into the seat next to him. With a pop, a rag materializes out of thin air, and Liam uses it to wipe down the binding of the books. 

“Zayn,” He mumbles a bit grumpily. With a sigh, he looks away from his task and meets Harry’s eye. “He is on the hunt for a new charm to impress this semester’s students with. You know, the whole ‘magic is might’ and ‘everything in moderation’ speech. He says he’s tired of the charm he always uses.” 

Harry pulls one of the ancient leather-bound texts his way and flips it open, letting the pages flutter through his fingers. “And you’ve been charged with the job.” 

Liam blushes slightly and focuses on the books again. “Well no, not really,” he admits. “Zayn’s got all the resources he needs at the Uni library. It’s just that he gets a little tetchy when he can’t find exactly what it is he’s looking for.” 

Harry snorts rudely, pulling Liam’s attention to his face. “Right, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Zayn doesn’t put out when he’s hyper-focused on something.” 

Liam’s face turns an alarming shade of red. “Have you ever thought about minding your business?” He asks icly. 

The laugh Harry had been trying to hold back, breaks free and he slumps forward on the table with it. 

“Okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, not another word out of me.”

Liam huffs and shoves the rag into Harry’s hand. “Here,” he commands before turning back to his own book and flipping it open. “Make yourself useful if you’re going to sit here and bother me.”

They sit together quietly for several minutes, Harry dutifully freeing the leather bindings of dust and Liam flipping through pages, scanning each quickly before moving on with a snap of ancient paper. 

The flipping pauses for a moment and Liam hums speculatively. Harry glances at him and finding his gaze locked on a certain page, scoots over in his chair to see. 

“What is it,” Harry asks, sticking his tongue out at Liam tries to push him out of his personal space bubble. “Stop being a grouch and show me already.” 

With a huff, Liam spins the book and stabs at the top of the page with his finger. 

“It’s a phantom touch spell. But, it’s no matter,” He says with a dismissive wave. “It would proper scare Zayn’s students half out of their skin, but you’ve got to have a real emotional connection to pull this one off. Won’t do.” 

Harry slides the book back over, tilting his head curiously at Liam. 

“What do you mean emotional connection? What is this some kind of sex thing,” Harry asks with a slow smile. Leaning forward suggestively, he pokes at Liam’s side until he smacks his hand away. “Liam you dog, you!” 

“Shut up, Harry,” Liam orders with no heat or any kind real malice behind it, besides a spectacular eye roll. “It’s just one of those things about magic, built-in protection. With this charm, I could make it feel like I’m touching you when I’m not. But, it will only work for someone who I know very well and who is open to the concept of me touching them.” 

With a clunk, the gears in Harry’s brain come to life and slowly start to turn, piecing together an idea. Liam must see it, because he narrows his eyes and tilts his head warningly. 

“Harry,” He asks slowly. “What are you scheming?” 

“Hear me out,” He begins. 

Liam resolutely crosses his arms over his chest. “No.” 

“Liam,” Harry whines, pouting as prettily as he can muster. 

Liam raises a brow. He’s accustomed to this by now. Plus, he can withstand Zayn’s puppy dog eyes. The man is practically made of steel. 

But this is important. 

Harry lets his bottom lip wobble, just a bit, just for a second. 

Liam gives in with a groan. “Okay, fine. What’s the mistake you’ve already cooked up in your head and are undoubtedly about to wrap me up in?” 

Harry ignores his tone gleefully and leans forward. “Well, this charm,” He starts out, nudging his chin towards the book. “Let’s say you were going to try it. Who would it work best on?” 

Liam leans back in his chair a bit, thinking it over. 

“I’m sure I could make it work with any of you boys, close as we are,” He says slowly, still working through his thoughts. “but it would probably be easiest with Zayn as we are obviously closest and I- well. Well, I touch him the most.” 

Harry nods excitedly, like that is exactly the answer he was expecting to get. Liam’s eyes widen in realization, so Harry hurries on before he can interrupt. 

“There’s no one in the world closer to Louis than me, Li,” He says quickly. “And you know how competitive he is.” 

“Not half as competitive as you, but what’s that got to do with anything?” Liam asks.

Harry scoots closer again, practically climbing into Liam’s lap. 

“The first thought I had when you brought up this charm was sex,” Harry rushes out, holding up a hand when Liam makes to interrupt. “I know that if Louis finds out about this charm, and tries to use it on me, I’ll finally have a chance. There’s no way he won’t go dirty with it, our brains are too much alike. And if we can make it into a competition somehow, he won’t even realize where it’s headed.”

Liam drags his hand over his face with a sigh. Harry sits back in his chair expectantly. 

“I know this is a crazy idea,” Liam says sarcastically, waving his hand around. “but why don’t you just  _ tell _ Louis about your feelings Harry?”

Harry feels like he might actually pull his own hair out of his head. His face must convey as much, as Liam looks alarmed for a split second. 

Harry takes a breath, and then another. 

“It’s not my feelings, that are the problem, Liam,” He snaps. “It’s Louis’s that are the problem. I know he feels the same way.” Harry jabs at his own chest with his pointer finger. “Here, I know in here that what I feel for Louis, he feels back. He’s just too scared to admit it.” 

“Okay, okay Haz,” Liam says placatingly. “That doesn’t mean we have to resort to magic. There are other ways you can make him admit -” 

“Oh yeah, and how long did it take you to grow back your eyebrows when you tried to make him admit he cheated at Scrabble?” Harry interrupts pointedly. 

Liam’s jaw snaps shut. They sit, staring at each other for several long, silent seconds. 

“Right,” Liam finally concedes. “Fair point, well made.” 

Harry nods knowingly. “So, you’ll help me?” 

Liam purses his lips. “Harry, I -” 

“I love him,” Harry’s green eyes shimmer sadly. “Liam, I love him more than anyone. So much sometimes I don’t know how I can even carry it all around inside me. Like I might burst.” 

Liam stands abruptly and heaves Harry out of his chair, pulling him tightly into a hug and squeezing when Harry gives a quiet sniffle. 

“Alright,” Liam says, pushing Harry away gently but holding fast to his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “I’ve got a plan.” 

Later that night, when Zayn comes home, Liam gives him his mission.

* * *

Harry’s body, perfectly attuned to the boy sleeping against his chest, drags him into consciousness just seconds before said boy blinks his eyes open prettily.

So very prettily. 

Harry pulls him a little closer, comfortable in the knowledge that a sleepy and warm Louis will accept affection without pause. Louis moves easily, nosing into Harry’s chest and squirming flush against his body. Breathing in deeply, Harry inhales his scent, wills him to stay calm and open. 

The sun, only just waking up, gradually fills the room with more light. Harry watches the way it lights up Louis’s face, sparking against his lashes that lay flush against his cheeks. 

Much too soon, Louis starts to move again, sliding away and flipping onto his back with a groan. Reaching his arms up towards the headboard, he stretches and yawns. 

Turning his head to the side, Harry watches him with a small smile. 

“Stop staring at me like that, you look like a homicidal frog,” Louis gripes, eyes still resolutely closed. 

Harry pouts and pulls the duvet up higher on his chest. “You’re not even looking at me, you don’t know what kind of face I’m making.” 

“Don’t have to be looking do I,” Louis says with a yawn. Turning on his side, he opens his eyes and cocks a brow. “See. I was right.” 

Harry narrows his eyes and shoves at him, trying to push him off the bed. It only results in Louis laughing and scrambling closer, all elbows and pointy knees. 

Which may have really been what Harry was after anyway. 

“Do you have to go into the studio today?” Harry asks into the soft hair at the top of Louis’s head. 

He shakes his head and stifles another yawn. “No, but I’m going to see Zayn. Make sure he’s doing a good job on the first day of the semester, my job innit.” 

Harry snorts fondly. “Yes, thank goodness he has you.” 

With a grumble, Louis plants his elbows into Harry’s chest and pushes up, sitting up in the bed. He grabs Harry’s wrist and squints at his watch, then flops back down dramatically. 

“I’ve got an hour,” He says and turns to shoot Harry a look he very much does not deserve. “Why’d you wake me up so early, you brute.” 

“You could always sleep in your own bed,” Harry points out. 

Louis sucks his teeth and pokes him with an elbow. “Yeah, I could and then I’d end up like a popsicle and never be unfrozen again. Is that what you want, Harry? I bet it is. You are after half my assets aren’t you? I’m taking you out of my will.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and rolls over, pinning Louis to the bed in hopes of smothering him into silence. Maybe he’ll be able to squeeze in a couple more minutes of sleep. 

But Louis’s legs spread, seemingly on their own accord, making room for Harry and settling against his sides. The new position and the soft skin on the inside of Louis’s thighs send Harry’s pulse skyrocketing. He fights to maintain his cool and prays Louis can’t actually hear the way his heart is thumping. 

He seems to be in the clear, for now. As Louis is paying more attention to squawking and shoving at his shoulders. 

“You’re a bloody giant,” He grouses through his teeth. “Lay off the spinach or something, for the love of God.” 

Harry laughs and leans in, rubbing his nose against Louis’s neck before he can think better of it. Louis rewards him by tipping his head to the side and granting him better access. And he so warm from all the squirming and the close proximity. Warm, soft boy under him smelling like his own shampoo and last night’s pumpkin pie. Harry really can’t be to blame for losing himself a little and sliding his mouth along the smooth curve of Louis’s neck, nipping at little at his jaw. 

A whimper, small but deafening in contrast to the silence in the room, slips past Louis’s lips. 

Harry feels it the second Louis closes off.

His entire body stills, frozen in shock. Maybe shock, maybe embarrassment, whatever it is, Harry has grown to hate it with all that he is. Because whatever it is, always swoops in just when he thinks Louis is ready, just when he thinks they are getting somewhere. The shade slams shut, the bridge is drawn up over the moat, and Harry is left wanting. 

He sighs and rolls away, watching the ceiling as Louis scrambles from the bed and runs an awkward hand through his hair. 

“I, uh. I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Louis stammers, cheeks tinged pink. Harry doesn’t have to look over to know Louis’s eyes are darting around the room, looking everywhere but Harry’s face. 

He plasters on a fake and well-practiced smile and turns to him. “Alright,” He says warmly, as the cold creep across his chest and squeezes his heart.  “Was thinking fajitas for dinner tonight?” 

Louis visibly relaxes and blows out a breath he probably hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Yeah,” He says with a smile. “Sounds good, I’ll be here.” 

With that, Louis shuffles out of the room and starts banging around in the bathroom. Leaving Harry to sulk in his too empty bed. 

He reminds himself that today is the day, the start of the plan. And if all goes well, which it absolutely must if he hopes to maintain any semblance of sanity, things will finally be different.

* * *

 

During his second year of Uni, Harry discovered his preference for running in autumn. Summer runs have to be conquered before the crack of dawn if he hopes to come out of the experience as anything other than a grease spot on the curb. Winter runs usually end in frozen toes and the need for his inhaler. Allergies, the kind that makes your nose itch and throat sore, make running in the Spring practically unbearable. 

As his trainers beat a path back towards the flat, thumping down a rhythm that only he and the early morning birds can hear, he’s reminded of his first autumn run. Sore from moving he and Louis into their new flat and still a little sleep drunk, he’d stumbled into the kitchen to find the older boy shirtless and scratching idly at his stomach over a cup of tea. For the first, but most certainly not the last time, Harry’s  body reacted almost violently to the sight of him. Blood rushing from his head to his dick so fast, he went a little woozy with it. So, panicked and a great deal embarrassed, Harry had turned and quite literally made a run for it. 

If Louis had noticed his..predicament, he made no mention of it when Harry came home later. So they never talked about it. Nor the next time it happened. Or the time after that. And now, they’re here. Wherever there may be. 

Harry sighs as he jogs up the steps of his building, thoughts of their situation dulling his runner’s high.  It puts him in a sullen mood, gets him stuck firmly in his head, rolling the memory of their every encounter over and over again around in his head. It’s a depressing and distracting line of thought. 

So distracting, he’s in the kitchen and pulling out fruit to cut up for a smoothie before he notices Niall laying his head on the marble island. He startles so violently, he slips and nearly brains himself on the countertop. 

“Fucking hell,” he yelps, “you scared me!” 

Niall keeps his head where it is, pillowed on his arms so that his face is obstructed from view. His voice is muffled by the way his mouth barely moves. “Yes, I am naturally terrifying.” 

Harry chucks a banana at his head, immediately running a soothing hand over the point of contact when Niall looks up with a pout. 

“Why do you look like you’ve not slept in days?” He asks, turning towards the coffee maker and flicking it on. 

Niall rests his chin in the palm of his hand and sighs loudly. “You know I’ve always dreamed of being a model, why do you attack me this way?” 

Harry gets to work chopping up his fruit and rolls his eyes over the apples. “You know what I mean.”

“Louis kept me up half the night trying to get his new charm to work,” he explains, “he wouldn’t let me sleep cause then he wouldn’t be able to tell if I felt anything.” 

Harry works to keep his face neutral, training his eyes on the fruit. “So did you?” 

Niall narrows his eyes. “Did I what?” 

He puts the fruit into the blender and washes his hands off before answering, praying that his voice sounds causal. Unconcerned. “Feel anything, you know the charm.” 

Niall stares at him for a moment. He’s grumpier than usual, not being a real morning person. So Harry hastily makes up his cup of coffee and hands it over. 

It’s not until Niall’s taken three sips that he answers. “No, I don’t feel anything. Which is weird because I’m used to feeling the effects of  _ every _ new charm Louis takes a fancy to.” He takes another sip and thinks for a moment before continuing. “I think he’s getting right frustrated, Louis.” 

There will probably never come a time when the thought of Louis being even slightly uncomfortable doesn’t make Harry’s gut twist with worry. He turns on the blender, watching the fruit spin around and morph into a green liquid, and tries to tell himself that he’s not an awful person for pulling this whole thing off. 

When he turns to Niall, he’s already staring back. 

“Don’t,” he commands simply, confusing Harry. 

He puts down the smoothie and furrows his brow. “Don’t what? I’m not doing anything.” 

Niall shakes his head and points an accusatory finger at Harry’s chest. “You are about to admit something to me about Louis and I don’t want to hear it.” He widens his eyes warningly when Harry opens his mouth to rebut. “No. I know that face. You make that face when you’ve done something that is going to get you into major trouble. I don’t want anything in my brain that Louis can pull out and then beat me over the head with.” 

Harry puts his hands out, palms up in a gesture of peace and walks towards the counter slowly. Niall’s a happy lad most of the time, but he can get a little cagey if he feels cornered. Better safe than sorry.

“Okay,” Harry says soothingly, “I won’t tell you a thing, my lips are sealed.” 

Niall sips his coffee, keeping his eyes on Harry’s face. “Good.” 

They lapsed into silence for a while. But Harry breaks. 

“It’s,” he starts and then abruptly stops himself, running a hand over his face roughly. “You know it’s nothing. I wouldn’t hurt him, Niall.” 

Niall’s cup clunks loudly against the countertop where he puts it down. He’s off his stool and pulling Harry into a hug before Harry even has time to blink. He lets him go with a gentle scuff to the back of his head. 

“I know that, stupid,” he says with a smile. “I’ve got eyes don’t I?” 

Harry smiles and looks down at his feet, relieved. He looks up again when Niall sighs quietly. 

“It’ll all work out, H,” he tells him softly. 

“How can you sound so sure?” 

Niall’s smile warms Harry from the inside out. 

“I’m Irish mate, we know these things.” 

Somehow, it seems like reason enough to have a little faith.

* * *

“You dead?”

Harry pulls his head up from hardwood floor and cracks an eye. Zayn wrapped up in a sweater that Harry is pretty sure he bought Niall for Christmas two years ago and smelling strongly of very good weed..and maybe cinnamon, is standing in the in the doorway of his office. He takes a sip out of his travel mug and stares down at him impassively. 

Which is kind of bloody offensive given the nature of the question.

“No. I’m not dead,” Harry grumbles. He lays back down and stares at the ceiling. “You don’t seem too worried either way though, I’ll admit.” 

It’s late. He’s got writer's block. He’s allowed to be a little dramatic sometimes. 

There's a rustle of material that Harry can readily identify as Zayn shrugging without having to look over at him.

“I might have gotten a little worried if you didn’t respond,” Zayn points out in defense. 

Harry rolls his eyes and plants the palms of his hands on the floor to push himself up onto his forearms. 

“If I didn't respond I would be dead,” He responds grouchily. 

Zayn nods slowly. Taking a couple steps into the room, he sits down across from Harry and folds his knees up to rest his chin on them. “Then I’d have to be bloody careful with you.” 

Harry sits up properly and reaches up towards the ceiling, cracking his back. Zayn flinches at the sound but just sips his tea. 

“So,” Harry starts once he’s sat criss-cross applesauce. “What brings you to the home of writer’s block and broken dreams on this fine day?” 

Zayn quirks a small smile at Harry’s dramatics but otherwise ignores it. 

“Liam texted me from the car just a bit ago,” Zayn answers with a tilt of his head. “Louis had a bit of a freak out about the charm.” Harry instantly starts to scramble up, worry clearly etched on his face. Zayn holds up a hand to stop him. “Liam is taking care of it.” 

Harry settles back down on the floor but furrows his brow at the other man. He’s obviously got more to say. It would be nice if actually came out and said it instead of practicing his man of mystery routine. 

Zayn sighs, visibly collecting himself, and that only brings the pit of worry back to Harry’s stomach. Before he can point that out, Zayn’s continuing on. 

“I didn’t tell Liam,” he says quietly. “But I’ve seen this before and I wasn’t sure before. But, I’m...I am now.” 

Harry stares at him for a moment before narrowing his eyes in frustration. 

“Was I supposed to bring some kind of decoder ring to this conversation?” he asks sarcastically. “If you hold on, I can probably find one in Louis’s room. Then maybe I can figure out what the hell it is you’re trying to say.” 

Infuriatingly enough, Zayn takes another calm sip of tea. 

“The charm only works on you because you’re his soul mate,” Zayn says simply. “You’re the only one his magic feels drawn too enough to allow for this kind of connection. So.” 

And it speaks volumes about Harry’s feelings, doesn’t it, that even faced with this information, this life-changing information that’s just been plopped right into his lap with no warning whatsoever, thank you  _ Zayn _ , his first concern is Louis. 

“Does he know?” he whispers. 

Is he scared? Does he feel trapped? Is he alright?

“I’m not sure,” Zayn responds slowly. “I’m not sure if he knows right this minute. But, if Liam is taking him where I think he is, he’ll know soon enough. That’s why I came to talk to you, I thought you should know before he comes home.” 

“If he comes home,” Harry blurts out coldly, mostly to himself. And yeah, it’s petulant and way more negative than he usually lets himself be. But, he’s been waiting on Louis to get over this fear for a bloody long time. It’s not too far-fetched to think learning this information could send him running for the hills.  

Zayn blinks slowly. “Nah.” 

Harry barely suppresses a scream. 

Running a hand through his hair roughly, he tries to push away the fear that’s clawing it’s way up his throat. 

“I know that you’ve wanted this to be more for a while now,” Zayn states. He’s using a weird tone of voice. Like a dad..or something. Something he never uses on Harry. It’s like -

“Why are you using your professor voice on me right now, Zayn?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

“I don’t have a professor's voice,” Zayn scoffs. “I’m just..this is just serious is all.” 

Harry flails his hands around in the air in frustration. No fucking shit, hence the panic.  Louis is out there somewhere, probably shitting a brick and Harry is sat here being lectured about... Actually, he doesn’t even know what this particular lecture is about. 

“He’s my best mate,” Zayn begins again, a little more aggressively. “I’ve been through everything with him. I know this isn’t how you thought this was going to turn out. So, if you’re not ready- What I’m saying is, if you can’t handle this right now, you need to be upfront with him.” 

Harry blinks. 

And tells himself to breathe. 

And blinks again. 

“Zaynie,” Harry says slowly, fighting the growl that wants to sneak into his voice and turn into an outright snarl. “Because I know you have good intentions, I am going to ignore the fact that you are implying that I would ever jerk Louis around.” 

Zayn stays silent, obviously aware of Harry’s rising anger, as it is physically palpable and Harry is easily riled when it comes to all things Louis, but appearing completely unphased by it. 

Harry sits up and stares into Zayn’s eyes. “Louis is it for me. No take backs, no Indian giving. Straight to jail, do not pass go. My forever.” 

Zayn’s eyes rake over Harry’s face while he speaks, watching his expression. When Harry’s done, they sit watching each other. After a moment, Zayn smiles, letting it take over his whole face. 

“Okay.” 

Harry huffs out a surprised laugh. “Okay?” 

Zayn leans back on one arm with a shrug. “Okay.” 

Harry laughs again and clammers up off the floor, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, and puts a hand out to Zayn. 

He takes it curiously and allows Harry to haul him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

Harry makes quick work of his coat and nudges Zayn towards the door, grabbing a scarf from the closet and scowling at the sweater that Louis left over the back of the couch. 

He’s sure to be freezing, especially if Liam’s got him in the car. God forbid they’ve taken Niall, with his need for an open window.

“Well Malik,” Harry starts while he wrenches open the door and holds it open for Zayn to pass through. “Louis is getting some overwhelming news and he’s bound to feel a little emotional. And that can only mean one thing.” 

In the hall, the two men pause and look at each other. 

The answer dawns on Zayn just as Harry makes to answer the question for him, so they speak in unison. 

“Ice cream.”

* * *

 

As it turns out when the man you’ve been pining over for four years finds out that he is your soulmate and decides to accept his feelings once and for all, everything seems just a whole lot better. Especially after the sex. 

It’s the sex, the mind-blowing, athletic, and life-affirming sex, that Harry is thinking about as he’s stood in the shower. And although Louis had promised to be good, after sidetracking Harry for the third time that morning and delaying him from cleaning the flat properly, Louis is thinking about it too. If the gentle touch of an invisible hand tracing over Harry’s abs can be seen as any indication. 

With a groan, Harry leans against the shower wall, tipping his head back against the wet tile and closing his eyes. Louis’s touch, invisible but unfairly delicious, remains on his torso. It’s torturous in the best way, raising goosebumps on his skin and making promises that have his dick hardening quickly. Harry keeps his hands at his sides, curled up into fists. If he can just wait, just a little bit longer, he’ll be rewarded for his patience he’s sure. As if reading his mind, Louis comes into the bathroom, the small creak in the door giving his presence away. 

“Come here,” Harry grits out, not bothering to open his eyes. 

He listens intently to the sound of clothes rustling to the floor and the glass door clicking open. When he opens his eyes again, he’s staring into the blue of Louis’. The water slides down his small frame in rivulets, drawing Harry’s eyes to his skin. He flushes prettily and gives a little shudder when Harry bites at his own bottom lip. 

Harry breathes through his nose and tries to fight back the urge to get his mouth on him and mark him up, take possession of him in a way no one could refute. Louis blinks up at him sweetly, looking through his lashes. He tilts his head knowingly, presenting his neck. Harry loses the battle. 

Fisting one in the soft hair at Louis’s nape and wrapping the other around the deep dip of his waist, he holds him still and sucks at his neck, using his teeth in a way that has Louis whimpering softly. 

“Everyone knows,” Louis breathes out. He sounds a little lost, and lot dazed. Harry moves to another spot, doubling his efforts. “Anyone who knows us knows. You don’t have to work so hard babe. Everyone knows I’m yours.” 

Harry growls against his neck, overcome with need. Roughly, he spins Louis around and shoves him at the wall. Too rough for someone else maybe. Perfect for Louis. The smaller man braces himself with his hands and presses his forehead against the tile, breathing heavily. 

Harry kisses down the knobs of his spine, mouth hot and soft. Steam fills the room, making the air dense and not at all helping with the way Harry’s brain has started to cloud up since the second he opened his eyes to find Louis staring up at him. 

He gets to the base of his spine and sinks to his knees, kneading his large hands over Louis’s ass and listening to the way his breath hitches as he whines. Whines for Harry. Only Harry. From now until forever. 

The thought has Harry worked up into a frenzy again and without any warning he holds Louis open a drags his tongue over him. With a shout, Louis nearly topples over, knees giving way. Harry holds him up with one hand on his lower back and the other on his ass. He licks at him, pulling at the edges of his rim and backing off again until Louis is doing nothing but rocking back into his face and begging for release. 

There are tears leaking down Louis’s face, Harry knows, can hear it in his voice and his dick throbs with the knowledge. Beautiful, responsive boy. 

Standing, he pushes his body in flush against Louis and nips at his earlobe. Rocking his hips forward so the head of his dick nudges up against Louis’s rim and makes him keen with want. He slides a hand between Louis’s body and the wall, circling his fingers loosely around his dick. 

“Tell me again,” he orders. His voice is gone, so deep it's nearly a growl again. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

Louis shudders against him. “You,” he whispers hastily, “You. You. You.” 

Harry strokes his dick slowly, not nearly enough to make him come, but enough to get his hips jerking into his hand. 

“Come on baby,” he mocks darkly, “you can do better than that. Let me hear you.” With a tilt of his hips, he pushes his dick forward and it pushes against Louis’s rim, threatens to push in. 

Louis’s scream echoes off the tiles. 

“Your’s, H. Your’s, I’m your’s,’” he wails, “fucking Christ, you possessive bastard. I’m yours.” 

Harry smiles against the back of his neck and rewards him, stroking him with quick, firm tugs. Louis continues to babble, making less and less sense, pitch rising with every breath. 

With Harry’s dick pressed up against him and Harry’s name on his tongue, he comes, shaking apart and whimpering. Harry has no choice, after watching something so beautiful, but to follow after him, coming all over his boy. 

They stay like that for a while. Harry shuffles them to the side a little bit so the hot water washes over them while they breathe together. He presses soft kisses along Louis’s shoulder, murmuring his love into his skin. By the time they get out, their fingers are wrinkly and the water's gone cold. Predictably, Louis complains about it at the top of his voice. 

Harry carries him to bed and spends the next hour begging for forgiveness.

* * *

“I’m going to order a pizza.”

Harry braces his hands against the counter and gives him a long-suffering sigh. 

“You are not going to order a pizza.” 

Louis’s trainers, still muddy from kicking around a football in the garden while Harry cooked dinner, squeak slightly against the floor as he makes his way into the kitchen to lean over the counter and investigate the lasagne in front of Harry. 

“There are vegetables in that,” he points out. Crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, he turns towards Harry. “I can see the vegetables in it. You didn’t even try to hide them this time.” 

On the couch, Niall snorts. Harry ignores him. Busybody. 

“Yes, there are vegetables -” 

“I’m ordering a pizza,” Louis cuts him off loudly, spinning around to march out of the kitchen and find his phone. “What do you want Niall? Mind you, if you say pineapples I’m going to kick you out on your flat, Irish arse.” 

Harry groans and grabs his arm, spinning him back around. 

“You are not ordering pizza,” he says with finality. He grabs his chin with one hand and uses the other to open the oven, turning Louis’s attention to it by maneuvering his face. “Look, I made you and Niall your own. No vegetables.” 

Louis smiles bashfully and slinks up against Harry, wrapping his arms around his middle and tilting his face up to ask for a kiss. Harry shouldn’t reward his bratty behavior, but he’ll never turn down a kiss. He presses his lips softly against Louis’s and hums contentedly. 

“That’s why I love you,” Louis confesses, tilting his head to the side so Harry can kiss down his neck. 

“Oh? Just for my cooking, then?” Harry asks playfully working his way across Louis’s skin and letting the words become garbled. 

Louis sighs at the feeling. “Give me some time. I’ll come up with some more reasons.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh but keeps his mouth on Louis, letting his hands slide down his back and anchor themselves on his ass. He can’t stop now that he’s started. Not with the way, Louis smells like Harry’s shampoo and grass. Not with the way his skin tangs a little with sweat. 

Zayn and Liam come through the front door as he’s working on a love bite on Louis’s collarbone. 

“If you do not stop that right now I am going to throw up all over the floor,” Liam announces as way of hello. 

Stretching his legs out on the couch, Niall answers him but keeps his eyes on the tv distractedly. “They keep a sick bucket in the laundry room, you barbarian.” 

Zayn laughs and runs his hand lovingly through Niall’s hair as he passes by him on the way to the kitchen. 

“You better stop Haz,” he says warningly with a silly wiggle of his eyebrows, “you know the only one who hates a mess worse than you, is Niall.” 

Harry snorts, fully aware of what Louis is going to say before he says it. 

“Yeah Harry,” Louis says breathily, dialing up the sexiness just to fuck with Liam. “You keep this up and believe me, there’s gonna be a mess.” 

“Really!” Liam practically shrieks from the living room. 

Harry barks out a laugh and backs away from Louis. 

“Alright, alright,” He calls over the living room. “I stopped. Now stop being a baby and come eat. You too, Niall.” 

The other boys get situated on the stools around the island, bickering and joking all the while. Harry takes out the second lasagne from the oven and a large bowl from the fridge. 

He places the bowl in front of Liam. “Here’s a salad, because I know you’re on a gym kick and will whine about the pasta,” he says with a nudge of his chin towards the bowl. “I’ve put in eggs and chicken for protein.” 

Liam smiles at him widely. “You’re the best mate.” 

“Easy with the compliments, Liam.” Louis faux snaps from the fridge, where he’s pulling out beer for everyone. “He’s mine you know, don’t get greedy.” 

Liam snorts and looks over to Zayn, who cocks a brow and smiles mischievously. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.” 

Louis gags dramatically, getting Harry to cackle, and Liam makes to retort, but the doorbell rings and everyone looks around at each other in confusion. 

Liam turns to Louis, a question on his face. But, Louis just looks bewildered swings his head around to Harry. 

“We’re all here,” He says with a shrug. 

Niall coughs awkwardly and his cheeks flame. “I’ll, um, I’ll get it.” 

While he scurries over towards the door, Louis leans over towards Zayn. “I didn’t even know we had a doorbell if I’m honest,” Zayn laughs around his beer. 

When Niall comes back towards the kitchen, it’s with another person in tow, and all four sets of eyes sweep down to where their hands are joined. 

Niall clears his throat. “Harry, I don’t think you’ve met Vadoma.” 

Harry blinks in surprise, taking in the small woman and her brightly colored floral dress. She’s got her hair piled up on top of her head in a towering beehive and her large brown eyes lined with coal. His first impression is that she is the most eccentrically beautiful women he’s ever seen. 

“No, I haven’t,” Harry says with a smile, moving around the island to take her hand politely. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” 

She smiles back warmly and Niall drapes an arm over her shoulder happily. 

“So, you are Louis’s Harry,” she says with a wink. “Is it unseemly of me to tell you I knew your scent before I knew your name?” 

Harry turns back towards Zayn for a second, at a loss for words. Turning back towards Vadoma, he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Uh, I don’t think so no,” He mumbles. “I hope I smell good at least.” 

Louis chuckles at that and slides around Harry. 

“Yes, love,” he assures him while holding his arms out to Vadoma for a hug, “you smell wonderful. Vadoma, there’s a stool here. We’ll just move it and you can sit next to Niall.” 

Once they’ve got her settled in and Zayn and Liam have said their hello’s, Louis decides to tell her the whole story top to bottom. The boys let him go, nodding along and adding in their two cents every once and awhile, but Zayn takes over when they get to the reveal of the bet. 

“So, because as you know, Louis’s magic is now unblocked that he’s in  _ love _ and not lying to himself about it, he’s able to perform that charm on all of us, albeit with more difficulty than when he does it with Harry,” Zayn explains. 

Vadoma nods and leans forward, enthralled in the story. “Yes, I could feel major emotional blocks in place before, they are gone now,” she smiles at Louis and pats his hand over the island. “I wasn’t sure if your magic would be stronger once you got those emotions straightened out. I’m glad it is.” 

Harry looks between the town and the furrows his brow curiously. “What does that mean then?” he asks. “You said you could feel it. What else can you feel?” 

Vadoma pulls a strand out from her bun and twirls it around her finger. “I can feel emotions, like your intense love for Louis,” she smiles to herself and slides her eyes over to Niall. “And attraction.” 

She looks away with a sweet smile when Niall flushes and looks down at his plate. 

Harry nods in understanding and Zayn continues on. 

“Anyway, Louis showed my students his charm on me and I showed them mine. They thought his was cool, for sure,” Zayn says, picking up his beer and taking a sip before grinning victoriously. “But, they chose me in the end.” 

Vadoma congratulates him and tells Louis better luck next time, patting his hand again. While she digs into her lasagne, Liam tells her about the magic shop and Harry smiles happily at his little group of friends. Perfectly content. 

Until standing fully clothed in the middle of his kitchen, he feels Louis’s mouth, warm and so very wet wrap around the head of his dick. His knees threaten to give way, so he grasps the counter tightly and clenches his jaw to keep from moaning loudly. He snaps his head over to Louis, who just blinks at him innocently, licking the sauce off his fork leisurely. 

Fucking menace.

Vadoma, still listening to Liam, leans back suddenly and places a hand on her chest. Her eyelashes flutter and her cheeks turn bright pink. “Oh,” she breathes. 

Niall looks up at her in concern, confused by her reaction. Liam stops speaking and puts a hand on Zayn’s arm questioningly. 

Harry feels Louis’s tongue run along the ridge of his dick and flick against the tip. 

Vadoma grabs at Niall’s arm in alarm. “Oh, my!” 

Zayn looks between her face and Harry’s and smirks. Liam, eyes trained on Zayn, follows his line of sight and drops his fork back into his bowl, outraged. 

“Are you serious right now?” he roars, scaring Niall half off his stool and delighting Louis. “Right in front of m _ y  _ salad!” 

**_Fin_ **

  
  
  
  



End file.
